Unfinished Salutations
by everdeenx
Summary: Heather Walsh, 22, has always dreamed about meeting her celebrity crush, Chace Crawford. She lives an ordinary life and aspires to be a writer, but one day everything changes. Rated M for language, lemons, and mild fluffiness. R&R Please!
1. The New Girl

_Who knows when it began._

* * *

Celebrity crushes were a common thing, right? _Right?_ Everybody has at least one celebrity they fancy or they are undeniably attracted to. For Heather Walsh, she didn't buy into the world of celebrity. She seldom picked up one of those gossip magazines with some famous persons' huge ass plastered on the cover, or watched a reality show that revolved around a trio of Armenian sisters or basketball players and their model wives. Who cares. None of that interested her.

Although, she might have had _one _celebrity crush. It just began as just a, "oh, he's cute," sort of thing one random day while her roommate was watching a popular television show, _Gossip Girl._ Then she watched the show just to see him. Then she wouldn't let an episode pass her by, she didn't want to risk missing a second of Nate Archibald's beautiful self. Or, Chace Crawford, rather. That's how the addiction began. Then her roommate brought home _The Haunting of Molly Hartley_, and then Heather saw the movie _Twelve_ after that. It progressed from there, yet Miss Walsh tried not to think about it too much, try as she may, Chace Crawford was certainly her celebrity crush.

Somehow those baby blue eyes had sneaked their way into her dreams, those that occurred during both the day and night, but Heather wasn't complaining. Could you imagine what it would be like to be apart of the cast of _Gossip Girl_? To be one of those overly-beautiful girls who sits in a chair and gets their hair done, their make-up done–hell, Heather didn't even like to wear make-up, ever. Yet these girls, they look effortlessly glamorous and they wear expensive clothing day in and day out, who wouldn't want to be in their position?

* * *

_"Heather, are you ready for your scene with Chace?" _The director asked as Heather smiled, her white teeth practically glittering in the sunlight and she nodded, tossing her dark red hair over her shoulder._"You're the new girl in Manhattan, and everyone is infatuated with you, but Nate got to you before everyone else–"_ Heather's sparkling green eyes rested on the young man's a feet away from where they were standing, and she was almost shocked to see he was looking at her at that very same moment. She was glad the brisk New York weather had tinted her cheeks a light pink, or she would have88 blushed insanely just then. He quickly looked away and Heather was no longer listening to what the director was saying, just replaying the moment her and Chace shared in her head.

_"Now, Janie Winchester is full of spunk and tenacity, you know, redheads, they're feisty and such, well I don't have to tell you–"_ The director leaned in towards Heather, laughing genuinely as Heather forced a smile and a laugh before returning her attention to the young man. _"Okay well, let's get started then, PLACES, EVERYBODY!"_ The director called, Heather jumping slightly at the sudden rise in volume before she hugged her pea coat around her and walked over to the spot she was starting from. _"Alright, alright. Quiet on the set! Cameras–action!"_

Acting was the easiest thing Heather had ever done. Being someone else was easy. She began walking like she was instructed to do, looking down at the pavement before her as she heard a voice behind call out, _"Hey, Janie, wait up!"_

She stopped walking and turned on her heel to see a Chace Crawford lightly jogging towards her. Only he was Nate Archibald at the moment, and she smiled so all of her teeth were showing.

_"Why hello, Nate, right?"_ The words left her mouth and it was like she was running on auto, even as her weight shifted from her left leg to her right and she hitched her purse higher onto her shoulder.

_"Yeah, Nate. Mind if I walk with you?"_ Chace asked mock-out-of-breath, and Heather nodded and continued walking, him at her side. _"How do you know my name?"_ He asked curiously, tilting his head in an adorable fashion.

_"Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Archibald."_ She spoke as she stuck her hands in the pockets of her coat, a coy little grin on her painted lips as Chace chuckled and hung his head.

_"Been listening to the gossip at school, have you?"_ He asked before she shook her head indignantly.

_"Not at all. I have a cousin at Constance Billard, thank you very much."_ She said, sticking her nose in the air and Chace laughed as he shoved his hands into his own pockets.

_"Well, excuse me." _He chuckled, Heather trying not to get distracted by how close he was walking next to her, or how addicting the sound of his laugh was. _"So what kind of things has your 'cousin' said about me, Miss Winchester?"_ Chace asked, mocking the way she said his last name earlier.

_"Well, I know you have a thing for back-stabbing rich girls who know how to play nice."_ Heather said with a bit of a sneer, Chace raising his eyebrows at her. The movement was so genuine, Heather almost forgot about the cameras trailing them, about the show. She almost forgot her lines... _"Okay, so maybe I _have _been listening to the girls gossiping at school."_ She laughed airily, Chace grinning in a crooked little way that made her want to melt. _"It's hard to ignore."_ She added, brushing her hair behind her ear, a Heather move, not a Janie one.

_"Well, Janie, don't believe everything you hear if that's the case. I knew you were cute, but I didn't think you to be such a naive person."_ Chace cooed, shoving Heather lightly and she shook her hair out of her face, wearing a brilliant smile.

_"Oh really? Alright then, let's say you're not into back-stabbing rich girls." _They both had stopped walking at the same time, both of them standing inches apart.

_"Oh, well in that case, I like redheads."_ Chace teased, leaning in close and Heather felt a warm sensation within her chilled cheeks, as if the comment was reserved especially for her. As if it was all reserved for her, the looks he gave her, the words. It was for her, not for that bitch Janie. He started walking again, Heather trailing after him before they fell in step. _"So how are you liking Constance Billard?"_ He asked casually.

_"It's alright. Nothing builds character like consorting with prep school kids." _Heather scoffed, dissecting the look in his eyes, like there was more going on then what was happening on the surface. Like he was trying to tell her something with his eyes.

_"That's right, and gossiping with them."_ Chace teased again, making Heather go weak in the knees. They were both directed to laugh, so far no one had messed up the scene. _"You're a prep school kid now too, you know."_ Chace said, Heather acting crestfallen at his words. As soon as he picked up the distress, his tone changed. _"Everything alright, Janie?"_

_"Well, not exactly. You see I was living in Albany before I moved here, and my life was just perfect there. But then some things happened and, well, anyway, this is my place."_ She changed the subject quickly, gesturing up to the wide red-bricked apartment covered in vines. Chace gave a low whistle as he looked up at it, it had a grand lobby with a chandelier and everything. Then he looked back down to Heather, or, "_Janie_," either one.

_"Well, Janie, if you ever want to talk or anything, I'm always around."_ Heather looked up into those brilliant baby blue pools of light and smiled, and Chace smiled back at her, the corners of his perfectly shaped lips curling upwards in a very tempting way.

_"Thanks, Nate."_ Heather replied, and the scene would have went as planned if she had just turned, walked away and into the building, like it was written in the script. Instead, she stepped closer to Chace and he moved closer to her and the director was re-reading the script to see if this was written anywhere in there. Then Chace placed his hands on either side of Heather's face and kissed her, and it was warm and gentle and his lips were soft and the director was calling cut but neither of them cared. They had _cut off_ from the rest of Manhattan and the people around them, and neither of them showed signs of slowing or stopping, much to the director's dismay.

Heather felt that her knees were ready to give out and she pressed her body tight against Chace's as they dropped the bags they were carrying throughout the scene, their hands becoming overly occupied with each others bodies. _"CUT! For heaven sakes, cut! Chace! Heather!"_ The director called, Chace slipping his tongue into Heather's mouth as her fingers danced through his hair. _"Chace! Heather!"_

Neither were responding as if no one else was really there to begin with.

"Heather... Heather!"


	2. Les Misérables

8:53 AM, September 25

* * *

"Heather, wake up!" A voice brought Heather out of her precious sleep, out of her precious dream involving Chace Crawford and she wanted to scream, why, why, why? Just a few more sweet, sweet moments asleep and... her and Chace... it was so nice.

"_No_, ten more minutes..." Heather groaned, turning over in her bed, burying her face even further under the blankets in an attempt to slip back into the sleep, as if it weren't too late and she could just return to the street her and Chace stood on. "What day is it?" She sighed, pretending she was still in the dream.

"Umm–Monday, but, you see... if you slept for ten more minutes, then you'd be–uh–thirty minutes late for work... what with the commute and all..." The voice trailed off and Heather threw the covers off her head, sitting up to see her roommate standing above her, inching away slowly so she was out of arm's reach. She didn't feel like getting strangled this early on in the day.

"Rachel, what do you mean _'thirty minutes late for work'_?" Heather said through gritted teeth, Rachel standing in one spot in a robe wringing her hands. Heather cut the deathglare she was giving to the girl short to look at her clock, which wasn't set to wake her on time. "AHH! RAY, WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP? I'M GOING TO LOSE MY JOB!" Heather yelled, Rachel shrinking down even further and folding her arms as Heather whizzed past her and into the bathroom, the shower turning on a second later. It wasn't long before Heather was running around in a towel, clothes scattered all over the floor, Rachel staring at her feet as Heather dressed. "I can't believe you didn't wake me!" Heather cried in exasperation as she half-ass dressed herself.

"I was... Busy." Rachel muttered looking over her shoulder as Heather slipped on her heels and gathered her things for work; her purse, a vast array of papers and notes, before she looked up at her best friend (Rachel worked for an advertising company, so she got to stay at home all day and do what she did best, draw, and paint, and things like that. Heather had two jobs, so by her standards, homegirl had it easy.)

"Really? Busy? I doubt that. I don't have time to feed Romeo, so you'll have to do it." Heather said referring to the Russian blue rat in the cage located in the corner of her room. He was standing on his hind legs, wondering where she was going in such a hurry without saying goodbye. Rachel sighed and cast a dark glare at little Romeo as she followed Heather out of the room, who stopped dead when she saw Dia, Rachel's boyfriend in the kitchen. He was flipping, pancakes. In his boxers, and Heather couldn't help but wonder why no one could find the time to wake her up.

"Oh, good morning Sleeping Beauty... pancakes?" Dia asked, Rachel bringing Heather her gray peacoat and holding it up so she could slip it on. Heather glared at Dia whilst fastening the buttons on the coat quickly, yet carefully–it wasn't as expensive or glamorous as the one she wore in her dream, but she still loved it.

"I don't have time to eat, pancakes, Dia, because nobody, woke me up on time." Heather forced out her words as calmly as possible as she shuffled through a stack of papers sitting on the kitchen table, her head pounding, Rachel leaning on a wall.

"Well, you've never been late before, so we, uh... Got busy." Dia cracked a grin, Rachel covering her face with her hands as Heather looked back and forth from the two. So that's what Rachel meant by _busy_. She rolled her eyes, shoving all of her papers in a bulky portfolio as she headed for the front door. "OH, and Heather, we're working together tonight at the restaurant, Victoria called off!" Dia called to her, and she screamed loudly before the door slammed shut, Dia and Rachel both sighing. Poor girl didn't even button her blouse right, and her white bra was visible through the gaps in her shirt.

Heather took on the stairs three at a time and successfully made it to the bottom without breaking her ankles, and as soon as she stepped out onto the stoop, the sound of New York reached her ears and shook up her senses. To her, there was no sweeter sound.

She moved across the sidewalk and closer to the street and looked left and right for a cab–usually she would have taken the subway to work, but today was different.

The apartment Heather and her friends occupied was located smack dab in the middle of Greenwich Village in Lower Manhattan, Rachel and Dia quietly watched her from one of the windows on the fourth floor, Dia stifling his giggles and Rachel pinching him to make him be quiet. A taxi was zooming down the street in Heather's direction and in an attempt to wave it down, she dropped her portfolio and it regurgitated about a third of her work papers and she swore loudly as she frantically tried to gather them.

"Mother, f–" Heather gasped, looking up as she watched a really, really good-looking young man getting into her cab about ten feet away from where she was standing or so. She placed the papers back into their rightful place and huffed slightly as the cab sped past her and she caught a glimpse of baby blue eyes peeking at her from the backseat.

"You fuck!" She stamped the ground before turning on the spot and taking off for work, she could run there and arrive faster than she could wait for a train or catch a cab.

"RUN, Forrest, RUN!" Dia called out the window, Heather flipping him off with ease and he laughed, Rachel hitting him on the head. Heather would definitely get him for that one later. She ran as fast as she was able in her three-inch heels, dodging the New Yorkers and the tourists and anyone who scolded her for nearly running into them. Screw them all. It was her main priority to get to work.

Perhaps if she was lucky, the place had spontaneously combusted and she'd be able to return home and just sleep and dream about Chace and those eyes again.

* * *

9:36 AM, September 25

* * *

"HEATHER, would you be so kind as to tell me why you're twenty minutes late?"

Heather was so busy trying to catch her own breath she couldn't come up with a good enough reason for her boss, Jina, as to why she was twenty minutes late. The woman bitched at her so much she felt as if was back in high school, and she forgot to hand in a very important assignment. The class just sat by and watched quietly, Heather gripped her portfolio in her right hand, her broken heel in the other, which had snapped on the run there.

_'My clock didn't go off? My roommates were fucking.'_ Heather thought to herself, her mouth formed into a hard line, hands clenched into fists. Occasionally they would unfurl, but they just receded into tight little balls and this happened again several more times. She hardly got paid enough to put up with Jina and her drama, and that's why she worked a second job with Dia at a restaurant called "The Yorkie," on the weekends, but it was worth it to just be in the writing business.

"Do you have your review on the shopping scene down in the Village?" Jina asked, Heather cursing the tight-lipped bitch in her head. She opened her portfolio, searching for the review, Jina standing with her arms folded, foot tapping. Of course, she remembered writing it just last night after her and Rachel scouted their neighborhood and such and...

She pulled the paper out out of her portfolio, wearing a horrified expression as she gazed at her review, which was covered with paint ever so strategically that it wasn't legible anymore.

_'Rachel!'_ Heather wanted to scream, she would kill her. The words running through her head right now ran along the lines of _strangle... massacre... slaughter..._

Jina watched with a raised eyebrow, and turned to walk away, with a, "You can skip lunch to re-do it, Miss Walsh," tossed in her direction.

"Right. Yeah. I mean..." Heather sighed, walking over to her cubicle and dropping the things in her hands onto the desk covered with pictures of her and Rachel, her bulky office computer, and a figure of an Egyptian cat. She opened the bottom drawer in her desk, and under all the clutter was another pair of heels, because she was that clumsy and knew only she could pull off something as ridiculous as breaking a heel while running to work. Then again, she had loads of extra just–in–case things in this drawer. Mints, hair ties, stuff like that–just in case. After she slipped on the new shoes and threw the mismatched pair in the trash, she slumped over the desk, looking at her watch and wondered what got her into this position.

It was that dream about Chace Crawford. It threw her off all sorts of ways and even now, she couldn't stop thinking about it, because it was the best thing that's happened all day.

* * *

5:14 PM, September 25

* * *

After work, Heather caught the subway home, luckily she got her review done and turned into the entertainment editor on time–to Jina's delight–so she let her off early. It was chilly and dark out, but just right, and she was starving and she hoped to death that Dia cooked something tasty for dinner so she could just sit down and eat before she was due at the restaurant. The minutes on the train ride home, listening to her iPod, walking up the stairs to her apartment, were spent thinking about the dream she had that morning.

Those few minutes she had to herself were spent extending the scenes of what would have happened if the dream had gone on longer. A guilty pleasure, yet comforting in the way that everything was endless, her imagination could stretch every which way and cover the earth a million times over. Fantasy at its finest.

When she got to the door of her apartment, and she stood fumbling with her keys for a few moments before opening the door–the first thing she noticed was that it was pitch black inside, except for the streetlight pouring in through the windows. It was never, ever, this dark in the apartment. Not even at three in the morning, Rachel was usually watching television.

All Heather could think was, _'Oh God, please don't kill me please don't kill me please don't kill me.'_ She tried finding the damned light switch, even with her eyes shut tightly, and she hoped nobody would be sitting on the couch, waiting for her, toying with a bloody knife or something.

She successfully turned the light on, and lived, she was just paranoid. She sighed deeply, kicking off her heels and letting them sit amongst the hundreds of pairs of boots, sandals and shoes galore as she wondered where the hell everyone had gone. She took her ear buds out and listened to the soft rustling coming from Rachel and Dia's room, and she rolled her eyes. She wandered casually into the kitchen to see if anything was sitting on the stove, but _noo_, the kitchen had that cold feeling like it hadn't been touched all day. Heather scoffed, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table that was cluttered with her work things and sitting in it, letting her forehead hit the table. She could hear the door to Rachel and Dia's room opening slowly, and then hushed whispers, but she didn't look up. Instead she peeked underneath her arm to see Dia stop dead behind Rachel, and her turning around to push him back into the room before shutting the door.

"Heather?" She didn't want to acknowledge the fact that there was even anyone else in the room. "Is everything alright?" Rachel inched closer, and Heather could hear the sound of her fuzzy pink slippers dragging against the carpet. She twitched, slightly irritated with the girl even though she didn't completely ruin her day, she only added to the chaos.

"No, it's, not." Heather managed, picking her head up as Rachel sat at the table with a mildly concerned expression. "My day was shit, my taxi was jacked by some _moron_, so I hoofed it and broke the heel of my shoe, Jina made me skip lunch for being late, your PAINT was on my review, and all day I just wanted to come home and now I have to go and cover stupid Victoria's shift at the fucking YORKIE. I'm pissed–and–starving." Rachel didn't anticipate the onslaught of information, and Heather didn't want to dump all that on her, but damnit, she was upset.

"I'm sorry, Hea–" Rachel began to say, but Dia burst out of their room, tugging on his jacket and slipping on his shoes in the hallway. He had been listening that whole time.

"Hold on, Heather! I'm going to go get McDonald's right now, so you won't starve, just–DON'T STARVE, OKAY?" He called through the door as he locked it and you could hear his steps as he thundered down the stairs. Heather tried not to smile, he was such a good friend, when he wasn't being an ass. She looked at Rachel, who was stifling her laughter despite the story.

"You'll be alright. I know it. I'm sorry about the paint, it won't happen again." She sympathized, patting Heather's hand lightly before giving it a squeeze. "Alright, I'll run you a hot bath before you have to go to work, alright?"

"With extra bubbles?" Heather pouted, Rachel giggling.

"With extra bubbles, I promise."

* * *

6:45 PM, September 25

* * *

Heather had felt much more at peace with the world than she did earlier, her and Dia on their way to work on the subway, sharing a pair of headphones and listening to loud rock music. They sat and mouthed the words to a Mindless Self Indulgence song, the lyrics were dirty and they giggled at their little inside joke as they received weird looks from the other passengers.

_"Dig me now, and fuck me later,_  
_and sing it to the tune of faggot! Faggot! Faggot!"_

They giggled all the way off the train and into restaurant, they were early, which was refreshing because Rachel usually tried to stall them from leaving, and they would punch in a second before they would be considered late. Heather had her dark red hair tied into a tight bun, her bangs framing her face, a white collared-shirt tucked into black slacks and covered with a black vest, black pumps on her feet–all of this–was the restaurant's uniform. The Yorkie was quite the prestigious establishment, you had all sorts of rich-y types walking in, and sometimes, you got the occasional celebrity or millionaire come in, it was such good pay, it was ridiculous. Of course Dia got her the job or she'd be at home right now, not making hundred dollar tips. It was ridiculously busy for a Monday night more than anything, but Saturday nights, were the worst. It was the weeknights that were _usually_ a slice.

Dia was hiding out in the kitchen, talking and laughing with a few of the other waiters as Heather covered most of his tables and all of her tables because every so often he took care of hers. It was a nice little thing they had going, except when it was her turn to get caught up on the favors."You're lucky I love you, Dia." Heather growled as she walked past him carrying four plates at once, Dia grinning and winking at her. Several times she darted in and out of the kitchen, and Dia was doing something new each time, whether it be heckling the customers or flipping through the pages of a _Game Informer_ magazine that was tossed onto one of the counters by another waiter.

"Damnit, Dia, you think you could do something, like, anything tonight?" Heather asked after an hour or so.

"Oh, yeaahhh..." Dia nodded, Heather sighing as he looked up at her. "OHH, _fine_, but only because I like you." Dia said, pinching Heather on the cheek and nearly getting his hand bitten off for doing so. He sauntered out of the kitchen and Heather continued working on her tables, collecting tips throughout the night and around ten or so, she took a fifteen minute break, Dia walking in muttering obscenities.

"People are idiots. Someone sat some pretty boy and a blonde chick in my section, I guess they're famous or whatever, but it's causing quite the commotion and making it harder for me to, you know, maneuver dishes, and crap." He muttered, piquing Heather's interest, and she set down her lunch, one eyebrow cocked upwards.

"Ohh?" Heather inquired, leaning on the counter as Dia ran a hand through his hair. "Who is it? Do you know?" She wondered, she had half a mind to go out there and see for herself.

"Not a clue. I don't pay attention to shit like that." He shrugged, waiting for the next order to come out, Heather feeling a bit crestfallen and returning to her lunch. "I think the girl's name was Blake, though." He screwed up his face in concentration, Heather giving a short laugh.

"Are you sure the guy's name was Blake, and not the girl's?" She mused, resting her chin in her hand while watching Dia as he fiddled with his cuff links.

"No, no. It was the girl's name. Her name wasss Blake... Lively. I don't see what the big deal is. I've never heard of them. I'm pretty sure the guy's name was Charlie, or something like that." Dia went on babbling as Heather stopped dead, her eyes wide as she slowly tried to piece together the information in her head.

"Hey, Heather? Heather, you're scaring me..." Dia spoke to the zoned-out redhead, who snapped out of it and was now walking swiftly towards the exit.

"Dia, if you let me wait this table, I'll love you forever. If you don't, I'll kill you. Alright, thanks." Heather managed, the poor guy confused as to what the hell she was talking about, but hell, it was just one less table for him.

Heather headed for Dia's section of the restaurant and it didn't take her long to figure out which table Blake Lively was seated at, her and her dinner date were surrounded by people. She nearly, fainted, at the very sight of him. He was so close, and somehow, Heather felt the odd feeling like her dream was somehow a possibility, within reach. It was right there. She started breathing awkwardly and dove back into the kitchen, Dia's head snapping up as she hyperventilated. "Everything alright?" Dia said eying her wearily as she walked up to him and took his arm.

"DIA! Holy shit, Dia, that's _Chace Crawford_. I just had a fucking dream about him!" Heather said, shaking his arm and he looked more confused than ever.

"Ohh... Did you?" He muttered, Heather releasing his arm.

"I didn't... Say that, out loud." She whispered, exiting the kitchen again, Dia gripping the counter for dear life.

_'Alright. No chickening out. You get to meet Chace fucking Crawford, oh God.'_ Heather thought to herself as she walked towards their table, the oglers dispersing the closer she moved. Soon there he was, looking at her with those brilliant blue eyes, and those dashing features–his face clean-shaven and only adding to his boyish charms, his hair slicked back–she didn't like it much when he wore his hair like that, though... It just didn't seem natural. He was looking at her, and she couldn't tell if she wanted to run into his arms or laugh maniacally and run away, this had to be a dream. She put her hands behind her back, pinching herself just to make sure it was real; it was.

"Hi, my name is Heather, I'll be your waiting on you hand and foot tonight. Can I start you off with a bottle of our five-star champagne?" She asked with as much perkiness she could muster, he liked perky, right? Honestly she had no clue, but just look at the girls he hung out with all day and night.

"That actually sounds pretty good." Blake Lively spoke in a sultry voice as she flipped through her menu, but Heather was watching Chace instead, people returning to their seats all around them.

"Hey, Heather... Yeah sure, why not... Do you guys have any cheeseburgers?" He joked, staring blankly at the menu before him, Blake chuckling, Heather irked by the sound of her laugh. Not that she had any right to, she didn't want to be one of those fans. The fact Chace Crawford was speaking directly to her, not to Janie, but to her, made her want to pass out right then and there.

"Alright, I'll be right back, with that, champagne." Heather giggled, Chace cracking a wide smile as Blake looked between them quietly. She turned to walk away and as soon as she was out of sight, she darted back into the kitchen, Dia staring at her with wide eyes again.

"So, who exactly is Chace Crawford again?" He asked, back to reading the _Game Informer_ as he was earlier. Heather dragged out the nearest champagne cart that had a bucket of ice and bottles filled with fancy drinks inside of it (glasses on the shelf underneath), before she just stopped and stared at Dia like he was an idiot.

"_'Who is Chace Crawford,'_ what, do you live under a rock?" She asked, pausing as he shrugged. He didn't really, pay attention to things like that, and Heather just shook her head and walked out of the kitchen. Dia followed her out to tend to the tables she was ignoring, _a.k.a._, watch her fuck up at the one she cared about most at the moment. He walked past a couple times scoping the guests out, Heather ignoring his hovering.

She returned to Blake and Chace's table, smiling, and she couldn't believe that Chace Crawford was sitting here, at the restaurant she worked at. She had to stop and breathe before her head started spinning and she fell and hit it on the table, or something brilliant like that only she was capable of. She had to focus, on something else, on pouring the champagne correctly because he was sitting so close and she could feel her eyes on him as she bent down to pull out two large crystal glasses for he and Blake. Oh Lord. Think of, of, _Mindless Self Indulgence_. That was simple enough.

_"Death with the right gun,"_ Heather started to mumble the words to one of her favorite songs, thinking neither of her guests could hear her as she held one of the champagne bottles firmly in her left hand. She was a pro at opening them, and not getting expensive liquor everywhere. She took pride in little things like that.

"Hey," Chace said, but she didn't think it was directed at her until he said,

"Is that MSI?"

Then,

she lost it.

* * *

12:16 AM, September 26

* * *

"_Rachel!_" Dia sang as soon as he and Heather stepped through the door, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend and they partook in some odd, tongue-wrestling-match as Heather slammed the door behind her, kicking off her shoes so they hit the wall and throwing her purse and coat on the ground. Rachel stepped away from Dia, noticing the red pigments in Heather's cheeks, Dia grinning.

"Shut the fuck up." Heather said, Rachel looking back and forth from her friend to her boyfriend in utter confusion, because nobody had said anything, yet. Heather went to go plop down on the couch, kicking her feet onto the coffee table as Dia began to chuckle.

"Holy shit, Ray, you shoulda seen it." Dia whispered to Rachel, he seemed really excited about it, whatever it was. Heather looked, mortified. "Heather was _so_ embarrassed today, and in front of everyone, too, good lord–look, she's already red–singing inappropriate things at work, surprised she didn't get fired then." Heather looked livid, but she let Dia have his fun while he could still talk, because later he would be in a hospital, with his jaw wired shut.

"I take back what I said about loving you." Heather said to Dia as she folded her arms, Rachel bouncing on the balls of her feet with anticipation, tugging on his sleeve.

"What the hell happened?" She asked, Dia grinning wider still.

"Welll, Heather opened a bottle of champagne and the cork nailed Blake Lively in the eye, it was all slow-mo', like, '_NOOO,_' and then BAM–RIGHT IN THE FACE–and Blake's all, '_AHH, MY EYE,_' and Chace–is laughing and Heather's all, '_OH SHIT, MOTHER-COCK-SUCKING-WHORE-I'M-SORRY,_' and I'm all–laughing too–but, hah, really... Corks can travel up to fifty miles per hour, who knew..." As Dia narrated the story for Rachel, who looked, not amused in any way shape or form, just horrified, Heather began to tear up as she held her face in her hands. "_OH_, and she got fired... But I made, one-hundred buckaroos in tips." Dia said, wrapping one arm around Rachel's neck and kissing her on the cheek, her mouth hanging open. "How was your night?"

"Oh... My... God." Rachel managed, Heather trying to force the tears away in her head, she would not, cry, damnit. Just, no. "Heather, darling, are you all right?" She asked, dropping down on her knees in front of Heather, who just looked at her with watery green eyes.

"It was baaad, Ray–" Heather's voice broke, before hugging her best friend, who just held her tightly and glared at Dia. It wasn't just one of those bad days. It was a horrifically beautiful ending to a horrifying shit day. Late to one job, lost another, this sort of thing didn't happen to just anybody. Only Heather could pull this off.

"You're an ass!" Rachel told Dia, whose smile faltered as soon as he realized that he probably shouldn't be joking about this right now. They talked about it all the way home, so he didn't understand why she was crying now.

"No, he's right, I'm such a fuck-up." Heather went on to say, why did she have to injure a television star? Blake was nice enough to not threaten to sue the establishment, but Heather lost her damned job anyway. She couldn't stop thinking about Chace Crawford, and oh, how he nearly died laughing at the fact his co-star came so close to being blinded in one eye. Heather just wept and Rachel was hushing her and shaking her head.

"No, no, love, you're not a fuck-up. DIA, tell Heather she's not a fuck-up!" Rachel barked at him, and he flinched, standing awkwardly in one place feeling partly responsible for making her cry.

"You're not a fuck-up, Heather." Somehow his input only made her cry harder, and he shrugged and walked away from the scene, Rachel sighing deeply as Heather cried into her shoulder. That night, Heather fell asleep in their bed, not her own, which happened on rare occasions. She fell asleep tucked in against Rachel, who had her arms wrapped around her best friend, Dia sleeping alone on the edge of the bed, still feeling bad about the things he said.


	3. Serendipity

5:14 AM, September 26

* * *

"My... head..." Heather sat up, wondering what she was doing in the unfamiliar den that was Dia and Ray's room. It was pitch black outside and if it weren't for the twinkle lights stung over the bed, Heather wouldn't be able to see her friends looking at her with sleepy eyes. The sun hadn't even begun to rise yet and the sound of cars and buses speeding down the street was still as constant as ever. Drawings and paintings decorated the wall, all done by Ray, Heather quite liked it in here, but she liked having her own space even more so.

"Go back to sleep." Rachel muttered, settling back into the bed and throwing her arm around Heather, before she did the same and drifted off.

* * *

7:33 AM, September 26

* * *

Heather rolled over for what felt like the thousandth time to find that there was no Rachel, nor Dia. She would have started freaking out were it not for the sounds of the running shower and the muffled, moaning and giggling, or whatever.

"I hate couples." She muttered, curling into the bed. The only reason she tolerated Rachel and Dia was because, well, they were her best friends. Okay, that, and rent was cheaper when it was split three different ways.

* * *

7:52 AM, September 26

* * *

"Good morning, dear!" Rachel sang as she danced around the kitchen in her robe and slippers, Heather dragging her feet across the floor all the way to the table.

Rachel pecked her on the cheek, Dia whistling and cooking breakfast, this was just a typical Tuesday morning. "The sun is out, the birds are singing~" Rachel spoke to Heather, who just sat with her head in her hand, not the slightest bit amused. It was too early for happiness, and noise.

"Yeah, yeah, that's great and all, just–make me some coffee–before I die." Heather muttered, Rachel laughing and hugging her tightly from behind. Heather rolled her eyes, her head aching slightly as she did so. Shower sex must do wonders for one's mental health.

Heather didn't want to reflect on her sex life–it was too distressing.

"Sure thing, doll." Rachel said, making everyone coffee for everyone, her music playing in the background, behind the noise of frying sausages and her slippers dragging over the kitchen floor. Heather was gazing out the window, dreading work and dreading the thoughts of last night and how she injured Blake Lively in front of _the _actual Chace Crawford. She folded her arms on the table and let her head drop, groaning loudly.

Rachel and Dia weren't paying much attention to anything other than each other–this is what Heather called "the perks of being a single person living with a couple." "Should I leave, or...?" Heather wondered out loud, interrupting their sudden, kitchen-make-out-session, and they watched her with some adoration. They were like parents with a moody teen.

Soon, her food appeared before her, Dia ruffling her hair, hoping she wasn't mad at him for making fun of her last night. Rachel placed Heather's coffee next to the plate and sat down next to her at the table, Heather looking back and forth from the two, Rachel reading a comic book, Dia engaged in his breakfast.

They ate mostly in silence, and Heather was grateful for that, because she didn't feel up to talking to either of them. She left the table without saying anything, getting into the shower and starting her routine of get-ready-and-go-to-work. She didn't mind the job itself so much, just her bitch of a boss. If she had a cute, single boss that looked like Chace Crawford or something she could have sex with on a desk here of there, it would be the best job in the whole world. Hell, he didn't even have to be single, okay? She liked the idea of being a mistress.

But instead she had Jina, and Jina had it out for her.

She was sure of it.

* * *

Heather walked back into the kitchen (after being _properly_ dressed, feeding Romeo, and having all her things _properly _gathered for work) to see Rachel sitting on Dia's lap, him playing with her dark hair, twirling it around his fingers.

"You're so pretty, Ray." He said, Heather feeling sick. They hadn't even realized she walked in the room, she had to leave, and soon, before they started undressing each other.

"I need to go, now." Heather muttered, as in, not just go to work, but to get away from the lovey-dovey couple before she threw up on them both.

"Okay, see you later." Dia said only half paying attention, but much to his disdain, Rachel hopped up and followed Heather to the front door.

"_Heeaatheerrr_, heatherheatherheather!" Rachel hopped up and down, Heather turning around, her feelings caught between the amusement and distress this girl caused for her.

"Yes, Ray?" Heather mustered in a sweet tone, Rachel wrapping her arms tightly around her waist.

"Have a nice day." She said, kissing Heather on the cheek and hugging her tightly, Dia tapping his fingers on the table loudly as Heather pat Rachel on the back.

"Thanks, I'm going to need it after everything that happened yesterday." Heather muttered, rolling her eyes. She didn't even want to go there. After several seconds of hugging, Dia finally rose from his chair and ushered her out the door.

"Okay, good luck out there, see you later, bye~!" He called through the slammed door, Heather kicking it sharply, Dia keeping one hand over Rachel's mouth to keep her from protesting. "Kicking the door won't get you to work any faster, sweetie!" He chimed as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Yeah? Well next time, pray I don't kick you in the balls instead, _sweetie_!" Living in New York was really starting to turn Heather into a–well, a New Yorker. She was from Niagara Falls originally, which was no where near the big city, it was–in some cases–considered Canada. It was quaint, but as far as being considered as, living in the state of New York, it was boring.

Her commute to work was less than uneventful–she was glad just to be early for a change–she didn't know how, but that day seemed like it would be ten times better than the one before. That was probably due to the fact that what had happened the day before could only happen once every thousand years.

Jina seemed to be in an alright mood, for the most part, not her usual, take-out-everything-on-Heather-because-she's-a-hot-red-head-and-I'm-just-a-tired-old-broad, moods. It made working that much more pleasurable when Jina wasn't hovering around her desk, nit-picking at her.

* * *

For lunch, Heather found a nice, quiet area in Central Park where the occasional child or dog or couple walked past, holding hands and kissing–God, she was sick of couples. Perhaps living with one like Dia and Rachel, who couldn't keep their freaking hands off of each other was making her bitter. She tried to deny that fact and not think about it much as she began to snack on the deli sandwich and Sun Chips she bought on the way there.

She pulled a book out of her purse, crossing her ankles and settling into the bench. It was just perfect out, and she sat there for nearly twenty minutes soaking in the moments when she wasn't messing something up, or when Rachel wasn't smothering her with love, or when Dia wasn't smothering Rachel with love. It was just her, reading _Murder of Angels_ in the middle of New York and she needed just that.

All was going well until a shadow blocked out the sun and her mind went directly to the end of the world, because there were no clouds out that day but she looked up with large round eyes at the person whose face she couldn't make out. "Hey!" The person chimed, Heather using her hand to block out the sunlight, squinting at the figure.

"Hmm? Can I help you?" She wondered out loud, the person didn't really seem, familiar. No one she worked with, at either jobs, right? Who knows, she had a horrible memory. Okay, so no one she knew personally, she could tell that much. He was too cute. He was wearing a pair of long fitness shorts, a hoodie, and a T-shirt. He was out of breath, and Heather came to the conclusion that he had been one of the many joggers occupying the park.

"Well, uh, I just wanted to see how you were, after what happened last night, at the restaurant..." He spoke, Heather's face flushing. This guy knew, about what happened, at the restaurant? "I didn't recognize you at first, but the third time I came around, I knew it was you." Heather frowned, feeling freaked out, by all of this. Who was this guy, who knew where she worked, and showed up while she was having lunch... she started to think "_God, what a_ _stalker_," as she checked her watch, lunchtime was nearly over and she had to get back, so she began to throw her things into her purse wordlessly, the guy watching her in disbelief. "Whoa, did I say something wrong?"

"Listen creep, I don't know who you think you are, but stay away from me alright?" She stammered, trying to sound intimidating, but she was freaked out.

"What, what are you..." The guy asked, Heather standing and moving so his figure was no longer silhouetted by the sun, and she covered her mouth. "...I don't understand, you were waiting on our table... you were singing that MSI song..."

Oh, okay. _Oh_. Oh, alright. It all made sense now. Then again, it didn't. Why was Chace Crawford talking to her in the middle of Central Park. She felt dizzy, and she thought for a moment she would either throw up, or faint, and she wasn't sure that she liked the idea of either.

"You're Chace Crawford, that's why, you were at the restaurant, and you remember me nearly blinding Blake Lively, and, oh, my God." Heather was having difficulty breathing, Chace scratching his head unsure of what to say or do. "I–I have to go. I'm going to be late." She managed to get out, starting to walk away briskly.

"What? Hey, wait–!" Chace called after her, but she didn't stop or look back, she just got the hell out of there as fast as she could, returning to work a few minutes early in time to call Ray and retell the story to her.

* * *

1:53 PM, September 26

* * *

"So wait, let me get this straight..." Rachel said through the phone, Heather sitting in the break room with her forehead on the table. Luckily, no one else was around. "So you're saying you... called Chace Crawford a creep... but you didn't know it was Chace... then..."

"YES, Ray, that's what I'm saying!" Heather whined, Rachel stifling her laughter. "Yeah, go ahead and laugh, and then tell Dia so you both can laugh." Heather muttered, Rachel sighing.

"Dia went to work about an hour ago."

"Good." Heather muttered, Rachel giggling.

"It'll be alright, babyyy." Rachel told her, Heather shaking her head.

"That's twice I've made an ass of myself in front of Chace-fucking-Crawford, Ray... I have to get back to work. I can't believe this." Heather muttered, rolling her eyes and rubbing her forehead.

"Only you could pull something like that off." Rachel sighed, Heather laughing.

"Shut up. See you after work." She said, Rachel making kissy noises on the other side, and then hanging up. She would certainly live, she was somewhat glad she didn't have to go back to that god-forsaken restaurant anymore. It would be nice to have more free time. She had that job for a long time, damnit. She was proud of that job. It's where she met Dia, unfortunately. C'est la vie. That's life and all that jazz.

She returned to work, with only one thing on her mind, when the mail boy came around and flirted, she didn't even look at him, when Jina insulted her, she didn't acknowledge the fact. She thought about that, stupid man. With his stupid face. _Chace Crawford._

* * *

5:43 PM, September 26

* * *

Heather stood on the stoop to the apartment rummaging through her purse for what felt like fifty-thousandth time trying to find her keys, and eventually she gave up and rang the buzzer to be let in. Rachel's voice came on over the little intercom, "HEATHER?"

"Yeah, I can't find my keys..." Heather said, there was a buzzing sound and she opened the door, heading up the stairs. Rachel was right there as always, Romeo on her shoulder.

"HEATHER! Shit, I was so bored, you have no idea. I finished my illustrations so I've been sitting here watching scary movies with Romey~" She yammered on, Heather taking Romeo and kissing his head. Rachel could be such a kid sometimes, but she was fun to have around. "Dia's coming home too, we should watch a movie together, it's been forever since we had a movie night, just the three of us, well four. I forgot Romey."

"You didn't give him any of that did you?" Heather asked as she moved into the living room, noticing all the junk food on the coffee table. Rachel shook her head, but Heather knew better. The phone rang and Rachel ran to fetch it, Heather heading towards her room. "I'll be in the shower!" She called, dropping her things on the floor in her room, placing Romeo in his cage. "Clean that mess up!" She added, Rachel balancing the phone on her shoulder as she began cleaning the living room.

"Hello~ DIA-BEAR!" Heather heard Rachel chirp from the living room, and she shook her head, shutting the door and hopping in the shower. Sometimes she wondered if what would happen if Dia and Ray broke up, if they were ever to break up, she'd have to clean up that mess, shit. She wasn't dealing with it. She could remember what it was like before Dia moved in, it was... a lot more fun. Perhaps she was just being bitter, she was definitely stressed out. She lost a job, her best friends were in love, Chace,_ ugh_, she didn't want to think about Chace. She reached for the shampoo in the shower, yet her hand couldn't find it and she opened her eyes to look around. Where the fuck was the shampoo? She growled slightly, there was only one explanation there.

"_RAY_!" Heather yelled, turning off the shower and wrapping a towel around herself, getting out. "_RAY_, WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY SHAMPOO, I NEED TO WASH MY HAIR, DAMNIT!" She called, "I can't believe this." She muttered, exiting the bathroom and walking into the living room. "I swear, if it's not one fucking thing, it's another, it's either you, or Dia, or-" Heather stopped dead in her tracks, counting the number of heads in the room, Ray sitting on the loveseat next to Dia, his arm around her, her hand over her mouth. The person sitting on the couch had their head turned to look at her and was now grinning widely at her.

"Hey. You dropped your keys at the park." He said, lifting the keys that definitely belonged to Heather. She felt nauseous, and she wanted to vomit, again. Her mouth was open, but no words were coming out and her hand raised to her head, brushing the wet hair from her face.

"Is that..." Dia and Rachel exchanged looks, her worried, him amused, Heather trying to put everything together in her head. "Is that, fucking..." She wasn't sure what to do, water was dripping from her hair all over the carpet where she was standing, and Chace was just holding out her keys like it was nothing.

Dia piped up, "See Heather, I told you everything would be alright." He was referring to the night before, when he made Heather upset, he supposed he was doing a good thing, bringing Chace Crawford to their apartment. Heather sputtered and looked like she was going to explode. "That's a good thing, right?" Dia asked, leaning in towards Rachel. "You know, you should put some clothes on, that's kind of inappropriate..." Heather turned her head sharply to glare at him and he just smiled.

"You, you stole my cab!" Heather said, remembering yesterday morning when she had to _run_ to work because, Chace Crawford, stole her cab. "I broke my _heel_!" She got out, rushing forward to snatch the keys from him.

"Y–yeaahh, sorry about that." He muttered, folding his hands. Heather ran back into her room, Dia stifling his laughter, Rachel sitting awkwardly, not sure what to say or do.

"She's not always, like that... uh... well I mean, she's toned down considerably since I first met her..." Heather could hear Dia talking to Chace, _why_, she didn't know, he wasn't helping.

"_RAY_, get in here!" Heather called, scaring the crap out of Rachel.

"Yeah, sure." She laughed, turning to Dia. "Oh my God, she's going to kill me. This is all your fault." She whispered, Dia grinning wildly. Rachel got up, heading into the room and shutting the door, Dia oblivious to any and all awkwardness occurring at that moment.

"So, Chace... play any video games?" He asked, Chace looking at the door to Heather's room.

"Should I, uh, leave? I just wanted to bring her keys, you know... I don't think she likes me much..." Chace said, Dia shaking his head.

"Nahh, this is normal for them. Which is funny because they're–not. Can I get you anything? Soda? A beer? Pancakes?"

* * *

Heather was rummaging through her closet, clothes flying all over the room as Rachel sat on the bed with Romeo in her hands. "What... are you doing?" She asked, Heather whispering wildly.

"What the fuck do I even wear? How long has been there, _did he hear me singing in the shower?_"

"I... don't know." Was all Rachel could respond with, Heather running around the room in her underwear. Rachel was having flashbacks of yesterday morning and she shuddered, Romeo climbing all over her chest.

"Why is he even here?" Heather asked, Rachel swaying slightly.

"Well, he stopped by the restaurant to bring you your keys and Dia invited him over, yeah?"

"Dia." Heather growled, of course. Of course, of course. She threw herself on her bed, Rachel turning to look at her.

"You should hit that." She said with a little grin, probably picked it up from Dia, the no-good whores. "Come on, hurry up and get dressed." Rachel got up, Heather perking up.

"Hey, where are you going, no Ray, I need you, RAY~" Heather whined, Rachel leaving with Romeo, Heather lying on her bed. She inhaled deeply and sat up, deciding fuck it, she already made an ass of herself twice and he's already seen her in a towel, it couldn't get much worse than that. So she got up, throwing on her favorite pair of jeans and the cutest top she could find that could be passed off as casual. She tried to tell herself as she started blow drying her hair that she wasn't gussying herself up because Chace Crawford was in her apartment, sitting on the couch she bought, then she started to hyperventilate, and Romeo was missing, oh right, Rachel took him. Fuck, just fuck, everything. Fuck Rachel and Dia. They were the worst friends ever.

Yet, they were her only friends, so what did that say about her?

She left her room after what felt like years and years of mental preparation, sighing deeply and several times she thought of just staying in the room until _he_ left, but... she was curious. She stood at her door with her hand on the knob, listening to the laughter coming from the people on the outside of her door. Chace had a cute laugh. He had a cute everything, he was perfect. She couldn't stand this. What the fuck was so funny?

She opened the door, the three of them turning to look at her, smiles on their faces. She stood awkwardly in one place, all of them had beers in their hands, Romeo climbing all over, Chace. Heather wasn't sure how to feel about this. She wanted to say "_Gimme my rat back,_" but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. She turned to go back into her room, Dia calling out to her.

"Hey Heather, where're you going?" He asked, and she cast him a sharp glare. '_Shut your mouth, Dia._' Heather tried to beam to Dia without moving her lips, Chace watching her, she didn't like this at all. "Let's play a drinking game~" Dia said, Rachel giggling and Chace looking bewildered.

"I'm not playing Monopoly with you again, Dia." She rolled her eyes, moving into the room.

"Come on! We'll let you be the dog!" He said, Rachel and Chace laughing as she reappeared and sat in the armchair next to the couch. Rachel ran to the kitchen to bring out four more beers, Dia reaching for the phone, "I want Chinese. How does that sound, Chace?" He asked, already dialing the number he had memorized by heart.

"Hell yes. Sounds awesome." Chace said, raising his eyebrows, Rachel setting the Monopoly game in front of them on the coffee table. Heather couldn't believe, why was he still here, not that she was complaining, it was just incredibly weird. Dia was good at reeling people in and keeping them there. Is this how he got Rachel to stick around? He was good. Again, she wasn't complaining.

Chace noticed Heather looking at him, and all she could think was, '_Shit._' Now she had to talk to him.

She pointed to Romeo, who was sniffing at a button on his shirt and she forced a smile. "My rat, he um, seems to like you." She said, Chace looking down at him.

"Oh, this guy. Yeah, he's pretty cool. What's his name?" Heather felt dizzy and she rested her chin on her hand, her eyes flickering from Rachel and Dia, who were so clever and good at occupying themselves, allowing her and Chace a second to talk.

"Romeo." She said, folding her arms to rest on her knees, Chace picking up Romeo and bringing him close to his face.

"Where's your Juliet, Romeo?" He laughed, Heather felt she was going to die.

"Here, I'll uh, put him back in his cage for now." She said standing, Chace handing her the rat with a smile. Why was he so, normal? Why was he still hanging around, like, a normal person? Why wasn't he stuck up, and too good for them and all that business? She placed Romeo back in his cage and returned to her spot in the armchair, Dia hanging up the phone.

"Food's on the way, let's do this. I get to be the motherfucking boat." He said, throwing Heather the dog, Chace picking up the car, Rachel the shoe.

Chace picked up the rules in the box, raising his eyebrows as he recited them out loud, "If a player lands on a utility, he or she must roll the die... the number rolled is the number of drinks the player must take... Oh boy." Chace sighed, all of them laughing.

"I am the master at this game, just watch Ray, she's a damn cheater." Heather said as they moved to the floor, Rachel folding her arms.

"Am not..." She said, everyone exchanging looks that said they knew better. They were laughing again and Heather could feel her nerves settling. The more they played, the more she found she was alright with this. The second time around, she could already feel the alcohol working its magic, the Chinese food had taken the edge off of it. It was like this was something they always did, like Chace had always been apart of the group or something, he burped and they laughed, or Rachel spilled beer on the carpet and they thought it was hysterical. "Fuck... my bad." She couldn't stop giggling, making an attempt at cleaning it up, Heather rolling onto her side laughing.

"So, um, how long have you guys been dating?" Chace asked Dia and Rachel, no one was keeping track of the game anymore, there was just a lot of bubbly laughter and conversation and occasionally someone would pick up the dice and roll.

"Oh, well you see, I was dating Heather before I met Dia, but he stole me." Rachel said, watching as Dia moved his piece around the board, Chace looking from her to Heather.

"Really?" He asked, Heather crossing her arms.

"No, not really." She said, but they all laughed until they had tears in their eyes anyway.

"Alright then... where's your boyfriend?" Chace said, everybody taking a drink as he landed on the space marked "free parking."

"Who me?" Heather laughed, Chace nodding, he seemed genuinely interested. He _would_ want to know something that made her so uncomfortable to talk about. "I don't have one."

"Why not?" He pressed on, Rachel and Dia weren't paying attention as they took their turns. They were good at pretending.

"No one finds my neurotic tendencies cute, go figure." She tried to laugh it off, relationships in general just made her anxious. Being in one or not, she didn't like to think about it. Yet she lived with the world's cutest couple, so.

"What? That's not true. I bet there are plenty of guys that think you're cute." He said, Heather furrowing her brow, Rachel excusing herself to go to the bathroom, Dia getting up to grab more beer.

"Oh, alright." Heather said with a hint of sarcasm, Chace resting his chin on the coffee table. He was staring at her, and Heather was trying to figure out if the alcohol was making him act so weird. "What?" She asked, turning red. She wasn't comfortable with anyone looking at her like that.

"I think you're cute." He said normally, adding in a little shrug, Heather scoffing and looking away from him.

"I think you're a lightweight, because you sound drunk." Heather said as Rachel and Dia returned, Chace sitting there with a little grin on his face, Heather fiddling with the necklace she was wearing.

"Heather, it's your turn." Dia said, Heather looking at the board.

"Oh, yeah." She said, rolling the die.

"What were you guys talking about?" Rachel asked, Heather trying to shake her head without Chace seeing.

"Heather was telling me about how hard it is to find a good guy in New York." Chace said, Heather rolling her eyes. That's not exactly wrong, but he had a point. "What do you think, Rachel?" Oh gosh, don't ask her what her opinion was, on anything. Heather and Rachel may have been best friends, but they disagreed, a lot. '_Where are you going with this, Chace Crawford?_' Heather thought to herself, as Rachel looked from one person to the next.

"Well, I'd have to agree. It's hard to find a good guy anywhere. They're either too good for you or not good enough. Girls are far more complicated, all over the radar, you know." Heather scoffed again, Rachel shrugging as she took a sip of her beer. "It's true. It's a shame though, girls are always looking for Prince Charming and guys will never live up to that expectation."

"But you found Dia." Heather said, Dia winking and toasting his beer to her. "What category does he fall in? Prince Charming... or scumbag?"

"I don't fall into any!" Dia laughed, Heather shushing him. She was hoping Rachel would say something that would help her case, guys don't want a girl like her. Which apparently Chace thought was a lie.

"Dia's Prince Charming on the outside and a scumbag on the inside." Rachel laughed, Heather nodding in agreement.

Chace seemed to have been thinking long and hard, taking a swig of his drink before saying, "Alright, alright. I think realistically, girls have terrible judgment. They look for what kind kind of guy they _think_ they should have based off how they perceive themselves. You know if a girl thinks she's not that pretty, she thinks she won't get Prince Charming." Heather nearly died of laughter at this, laying on her back on the floor, he was hilarious.

"It doesn't matter, because guys will sleep with anything." She said, Chace pointing a finger at her.

"Hey, we're talking long-term here, that's not fair. As sad as it sounds, it's true though." Chace said, everyone making some grunt or nodding in agreement. "But long-term, if a guy sticks around longer than a month, he's good, right? Then all that stuff about expectations and Prince Charming goes out the window." Chace was one of the most persistent men Heather had ever met, and they all seemed to think on this.

"Maybe. Two months." Heather said, one month wasn't really that promising, but it was true. None of the guy's she's ever dated stuck around longer than a month. Douchebags.

* * *

After that there was no more relationship talk, but the third time around the board, everyone was out of it. Dia had removed his pants, which were now draped over the edge of the loveseat, Rachel curled up against him, Chace humming to himself as Heather brought out blankets for everyone. "Here you go." She said, giving Chace a pillow and he laid on his side.

"So, is the game over?" He asked as Dia wrapped a blanket around him and Rachel, shrugging. "Who won?" He laughed, looking to Heather, who shrugged as well.

"Whoever's the least wasted." She said, watching Dia doze off, Chace chuckling.

"Then I think, we all lost." Chace said as Heather just sat there, swaying slightly. It was quiet without Rachel blabbering or Dia making jokes, and Heather started to feel panicky again. Perhaps she should say something, didn't he have somewhere, to be?

"Yeah..." There was a period of silence that felt like forever, Heather picking at her nails, Chace playing with the board pieces. "Is it okay for you to be here, like this?" She wondered out loud, and he laughed.

"What? Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" He asked, and she gave another shrug.

"You'd think someone like you has things to be doing." She said, and he seemed to think this was hilarious for some reason, which irked her. Just a little bit. His laugh was adorable.

"Someone like me? Please, I do what I want, when I'm not working. I'm just like everybody else." Heather said nothing at this, just let it sink in, trying to figure out what the hell he meant by it. It was still very early, in the night. She wasn't tired, just tipsy, and her friends were asleep.

"Well... you wanna watch a movie?" She asked, Chace looking at her with a big smile on his face.

"Sure." They both moved to stand, the room shaking and Heather stumbled a bit, Chace grabbing her and she was laughing.

"Sorry." She wasn't sure why she was apologizing, but she made it to her room and grabbed the first movie she could find, popping it into the DVD player.

"What are we watching?" He asked, hopping on her bed. Why was Chace Crawford in her bed. This was so weird. She couldn't stop giggling, the alcohol making her feel all floaty.

"Umm... I don't know." She laughed, sitting on the opposite side of the bed Indian-style, "Oh, it's... this movie." Heather muttered as _500 Days of Summer_ began. "I hate this movie."

"What? Why do you have it, then?" Chace laughed, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under his head.

"It's Ray's, she made me watch it." Heather said, laying down also. She was too drunk to comprehend any of this, why was she watching a movie with Chace Crawford. Nerves were no longer in question, the alcohol had taken care of that. She just loved Dia and Rachel right now. She got under the large down blanket, dozing off, watching as Summer teased Tom throughout the entire movie, she wondered if the Month-Rule applied to females, because Summer stuck around for five-hundred days and still she left poor Tom. Where's your sharp logic there, Mr. Crawford?


	4. Sueños

7:14 AM, September 27

* * *

Heather's eyes fluttered open and she jerked slightly before sitting up and swearing loudly, clutching her forehead. What the hell happened last night? She couldn't focus on anything besides the pain pulsating in her temples, and the sounds of her shower running... that's when her mind began racing. Had she left it on last night, or–? She couldn't remember a damn thing, and it was frustrating. She had a headache, which led her to the only conclusion that last night, in a moment of anger she had slipped, fallen, and hit her head in the shower and Rachel dragged her to bed, it seemed like a legitimate explanation... although... why would the shower still be running?

She fought her way out of the covers, really hoping she didn't leave the shower running, it would cost her a fortune. Yet when she reached the bathroom door, she couldn't help but notice the steam that was rising from underneath the door. Oh God. This felt like a setup, like one out of many horror movies like the ones Rachel makes her watch. She would open the door, pull back the shower curtain–BAM–she was dead. Only to have her entrails sewn together to make a coat. She inhaled sharply and listened to the whistling coming from just inside the door, and she placed her hand on the doorknob and wrenched it open.

The whistling stopped, and there was a moment when all there was, was the sound of the water hitting the floor of the tub and Heather's heart beating loudly in her chest. Then the emerald curtain was pulled back and there stood Chace, oh no big deal. Just standing there grinning, and, naked–and wet–and, oh-so naked. She had to force herself to keep her eyes on his.

"Good morning!" He said in that gravely-morning-voice everyone got after waking up. She felt like she was staring too much, gaping at the perfectly sculpted man standing in her shower. Her knees felt ready to give out and she tried her hardest to not just go into full-seizure mode. "You coming in?"

He really didn't have to ask twice, she wasn't going to make him wait, either.

Well aware he was watching her the same way she was watching him, she began to slowly unbutton the blouse she was wearing, her fingers fumbling with each one as she was struggled to keep eye contact. After undoing the last button she paused before letting her top fall to the floor, revealing the black lace bra underneath and her hands moved to undo the button of her jeans. She was surprised to see how casual he looked in her shower, dripping wet and wearing nothing but his own skin, she couldn't believe this was happening, whatever this was. Her lips slightly parted in astonishment at his obvious excitement as she wriggled her hips side to side, her jeans sliding off with ease.

She undressed herself as if he weren't standing in the room before her and he stepped aside as she got into the shower with him. Then all at once, everything moved fast and like lightning; if you blinked, you missed it.

Without words Chace stepped forward and like a reflex, Heather stepped back so she was caught between him and the hard tiles of the shower wall, her breath escaping her quickly and he inhaled it. Their lips met like there was nothing to it, his hands wandering about her body as she placed her hands on either side of his neck. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth as he held her fast to him, gripping her waist tightly as she ran her fingertips through his wet hair.

She gasped as he hoisted her up and she followed suit, wrapping her legs around his waist like it was second nature, not that she's had much of any practice at these sorts of things. His lips moved over her skin, a trail of nibbles and kisses along her neck and jawline and her body tensed up as she waited for his next move, but it never came. Heather opened her eyes, confused as she stared at her ceiling.


	5. La Vie en Rose

7:14 AM, September 27

* * *

"Heather! You're awake, right? I don't want you to be late again..."

Heather grit her teeth as she realized what had just happened. She was dreaming again. _Again_, damn it, and of course, Rachel had ruined it, _again_. She was going, to kill her. Literally this time.

Heather sprang out of bed and bolted for the door to her bedroom, Rachel would feel her wrath on this very day. It was about that time. She yanked the door open so hard that it hit the opposite wall with a loud _thud_ and then there was a crash as Heather tackled Rachel to the floor with the strength of a bulldozer.

"AHH, OH MY GOD, WHAT, WHAT?" Rachel screamed, struggling to keep Heather from scratching her eyes or something of the like, and the two wrestled on the floor for sometime as Dia laughed, he was such a good boyfriend/friend.

"RAY, I–AM–GOING–TO–HURT YOU!" Heather grunted before trying to bite off her friend's fingers. Dia just laughed harder still, and hooted as Rachel pinned Heather, who needed cable when these two were around?

"Hey, what's going on?" The three of them were not alone, to Heather's dismay. Chace stood in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a spatula and wearing a very bemused expression.

"I don't know, but I like it." Dia said, clapping loudly as Heather threw Rachel off of her, getting up quickly as the latter laid on the floor looking both bewildered and disgruntled. "Come on, doll." Dia said, helping his girlfriend up as she glared at Heather in an attempt to burn holes through her head.

"Yeah, so... breakfast? I'm making pancakes." Chace said, his eyebrows raised as he gestured over his shoulder at the food cooking in the pan. Heather looked from Chace, to Dia, to Rachel–who she didn't feel bad for one bit at the moment–and she wondered, why was Chace Crawford cooking breakfast in her kitchen? Someone give her a handbook on how she was supposed to react to all of this.

"I'm just going to, take a shower really quick, and I'll be out soon." Heather spoke, she felt like she was having an outer-body experience and she was watching herself move back into her room, cursing herself in her head all the way there. She shut the door, hyperventilating slightly as she grabbed a towel and hopped in the shower, her mind moving at a thousand miles a minute.

Chace Crawford, really had spent the night, why was he still–here? Perhaps he liked hanging out with them, or he was bored, or he didn't have any other friends, whatever it was, it was annoying. Go home, Crawford.

Or, stay. She was so confused. She washed her hair as if it would clear her mind and scrubbed at her skin compulsively, usually in these situations she would ask Rachel what to do, but, she made the last two days of her life a living hell, so that was out of the question.

As Heather got dressed, she came up with the only solution that made sense (i.e., the one that wouldn't make her look completely whacked since she already yelled at him twice in public and beat up her best friend in front of him); pretend he wasn't a famous television actor and accept it for what it was. He was Chace, just Chace. He was like any other person and he should be treated as such, despite his perfect body and chiseled features. She tried thinking about that day in the park when he walked up to her, and spoke to her, and they were just two normal people. Nothing more.

"Just be yourself. Be yourself." Heather muttered under her breath, putting on her best work outfit she could find, a navy blazer and matching skirt that ended about mid-thigh, and a pair of black heels. She pinned her hair up, her red bangs framing her face, if Chace wasn't special, why was she dressing up more than usual? She even put on a bit of lip gloss, and she didn't wear make-up, ever. "Way to be yourself, loser." She told herself, making sure she had her things together and checking that Romeo had food and clean water before she exited her room and stood awkwardly in the kitchen.

The atmosphere was surprisingly warm and natural, Ray was sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading another comic book, Chace and Dia's hearty-man-laughs mingling with the sounds of the radio. It was oddly, normal, like they always did this, except Chace had only been around for a couple hours or so. She was so glad her friends were such effortlessly social creatures, because she, was not. If it was just her, Chace would never have come over, he would never have stuck around, he wouldn't have stayed to make breakfast, yet here he was. Her friends were miracle workers.

Heather began to panic as she realized what a mess the apartment was, it wasn't the biggest place, so messes were bound to be noticed, especially when... famous people were over. Her work notes were all over the table, beer bottles and boxes of Chinese food strewn across the living room. She wondered how insane she would look if she frantically began cleaning, or how discreet she could make it look, but when she realized everyone was looking at her, she grabbed a seat at the table.

"Sorry about earlier." Heather managed, Rachel looking back down at her comics without saying a word. Heather wanted to kick her, just once, but a plate of blueberry pancakes was set in front of her, and she looked up at Chace's grinning face.

"Eat up." He said as if it were no big deal, sitting next to her with his own plate, and she began gathering papers and moving them out of his way.

"Sorry about the mess–" She muttered, Chace scrunching up his face and shaking his head, dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand.

"I work, a lot. So my place is usually pretty bad. Food containers and laundry everywhere. The ideal bachelor pad." He said, Dia laughing and sitting across from Heather and she instantly began to feel, very uncomfortable. She felt a panic attack coming on, but Chace was talking again, with pancake in his mouth and Heather forgot she even had food in front of her. "So, Dia told me you write for the New York Post..." He said, looking at her but none of this was connecting. "That's pretty impressive... what do you write about?"

"I–uh, you know–" Heather stammered, picking up her fork and prodding the pancakes with it, shrugging. "Entertainment. Really short, boring stuff no one probably reads." Oh, insecurity, that should draw him in. "It's alright. I liked the restaurant more, but after what happened the other night, I'm not allowed back there..." Heather shrugged, Chace shaking his head.

"I can't believe you got fired for that, what assholes. Blake totally said she wasn't going to press charges." Chace said in exasperation, they were having, a conversation, and Heather could have sworn Rachel was silently laughing behind her comic book, Dia grinning down at his food. "Anything I can do to help?" Chace asked, Heather shaking his head.

"No, it's alright. I appreciate the fact she didn't want to, sue me." She swallowed the lump in her throat, she still couldn't believe anything that has taken place in the last three days. She injured a celebrity, slept in bed with another, and now they were having breakfast, talking about injuring the aforementioned celebrity.

"So are you guys, like, dating?" Rachel asked, Heather's face flushing, she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer to that. She's seen how close Chace and Blake were, she watched _Gossip Girl_, damn it. She shoved pancake into her mouth to occupy herself, she could feel her ears burning, her fingers trembling.

"Blake and I?" Chace laughed, shaking his head and Heather's stomach doing little flips. "No, we're just friends. Everyone assumes that we do, but yeah, no." He shook his head some more and it was like God was shining a light on their table from heaven and he was urging Heather to talk to him more, He was saying, "_Go on, it's totes cool, I set it up for you._" Heather swallowed her pancakes and glanced at her watch, making sure she wouldn't be late, or she'd be losing another job. When the hell was Chace planning on going home? She felt slightly more panicky as the seconds went by. She couldn't believe how well-acquainted Chace and her roommates were, she felt oddly out of the loop, which wasn't entirely unusual. Heather tried to eat as much of her pancakes as she could so she didn't seem rude, everyone else finishing their food with ease.

"I should probably get going soon, I have to go home and clean up, we're shooting later..." Chace began, and he didn't have to say much more than that before Dia hopped up and grabbed their dishes, Rachel grabbing Heather and Chace's coats, Heather not understanding what just happened.

"Sounds good, Heather, you should probably go, too. Chace, it was wonderful having you. Come hang out again, yeah? You know where to find us." Rachel said, Chace standing and taking his coat, Heather following suit. They were always setting them up like dominoes, was Heather shocked? No, not really. Pleased, actually.

"Yeah, I don't see why not." He said as the three of them moved towards the door. Heather couldn't find any words, she checked her watch again. She would be way too early for work, but she went along with Rachel and Dia's plan, whatever that was. They were trying to set her up with a television star, yeah, that would go swimmingly.

"Alright, see you, be careful out there!" Rachel sang as she shut the door, Heather shrugging her coat on, Chace smiling at her.

"They're pretty cool." He said, Heather nodded as she made sure she had her keys with her, avoiding eye contact. "After you." He held his hand out, gesturing for her to go first and she gulped, starting down the stairs carefully, she didn't want to fall and break her skull open in front of him, she just met the guy. After successfully reaching the ground floor, she exhaled and stepped outside, feeling less queasy as she breathed in the crisp fall air, Chace right behind her. "Which way are you headed?" He asked, she felt like he was doing all the talking, he was so casual about it. You think he'd be more concerned about leaving an apartment with a girl like her, someone might... see them.

She pointed in the general direction of where the building she worked at was located, and Chace nodded. "I'm that way," he said, pointing in the opposite direction. "Here, I'll get you a cab." Heather swayed slightly on the spot as he stepped closer to the street, hailing a taxi with ease, something she was never good at. "So, yeah, we should definitely hang out again. I'll call you? If that's okay, I mean–" For once in the entire time Heather had been around Chace, he sounded, nervous. Well, nervous for him, perhaps. Which was still pretty cool in her opinion.

"You, you want to call me?" She asked, reminding herself not to lock her knees or she'd faint on the spot. "No, yeah, you totally should, here let me give you my number." She said, opening her purse to grab a piece of paper and a pen, but he shook his head.

"Rachel already took care of it." He laughed, Heather smiling. Of course she did.

"All right. Yeah, call me, I'm off on weekends, so... as much fun as getting drunk on a weeknight was, we should definitely try it then." Heather laughed as Chace opened the door to the taxi, laughing along with her.

"Until then." He said, and for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, she was speechless, stunned by how beautiful he was, shocked that he was making eye contact with her, blown away because everything he said was so sincere. It was like he was a real person, as real as her or Rachel or Dia. She brushed her hair behind her ear and ducked into the taxi and he closed the door, waving as they drove away. That image was burned inside of her skull and all day all Heather could think of was him saying he would call her. Nothing could ruin her high.

* * *

1:32 PM, September 28

* * *

"Ray, I'm scared." Heather whispered into her cellphone. She was having lunch in the break room at her job, and working with a bunch of writers who wrote mostly gossip for a well-known newspaper, she had to be careful about what she said. "What if he was lying? He's never going to call me."

"You don't know that." Rachel scoffed on the other line, she must have heard this same complaint almost forty times now. The last day and a half has been no picnic.

"What if he forgot, because he's dating hot chicks, or he lost my number already, I wouldn't be surprised." Heather muttered, she could practically hear Rachel rolling her eyes over the phone.

"I'm pretty sure he's going by the three-day rule." She said in a flat tone, Heather would rather be talking to Dia. He was less biased.

"Fuck that, three-day rule my ass," Heather hissed into the phone, making sure no one was around. "I'll die before tomorrow night, if he does decide to call. Tell him he killed me Ray, he killed me because he made me wait." She said, sinking in her chair as Rachel chuckled.

"Just relax. I'm pretty sure he'll call, if not, me and Dia will break his legs, okay?" Rachel said calmly, whilst Heather was freaking out inside her head. She'd feel better if Rachel assured her that he _wouldn't _call her. Yeah, that would have been better. She couldn't handle the possibility that he _might_ call. "Well, I have to finish this poster." Rachel said, Heather forgetting she was still on the other line. "I love you, I'll see you later." Then like that, she was gone, the bitch.

Heather sighed and returned to her desk, carrying on with the mundane tasks that she somehow got paid for, thinking about that stupid Crawford and her stupid roommates and yeah, it was all just, _stupid_. She would never look at pancakes the same, that was for sure.

* * *

8:50 PM, September 29

* * *

Rachel and Dia had spent many hours being tortured by Heather and listening to her rantings about the three-day rule, and about how dating shouldn't be so complicated, and where were these rules, she wanted to see a copy and sue whoever made them up.

"What grounds would you have, Heather?" Dia asked, sitting on the couch with Rachel and rubbing her feet as Heather hugged her knees on the armchair.

"Mental anguish, of course." She muttered, clutching her cellphone like some crazy person, her friends rolling their eyes. "I'm going to ignore that." She muttered, directing her attention to the television but still watching her phone closely. "Ray, are you sure you gave him the right number?" She asked, they were both giggling as Dia ran his hands up Rachel's legs, Heather gagging and they both looked at her.

"You've had the same number for three years, I think I should be able to redistribute it to potential suitors properly." Rachel sighed, and Heather looked back at the television like no one had even spoken. He wasn't going to call, it was hopeless. He was probably out doing things famous people did, like going to parties with other famous people–or sleeping–with other famous people. He was just being nice when he said he wanted to hang out again...

* * *

Later that night when she was good and ready to give up and go to bed, Heather's phone buzzed and the song "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls came blaring out of the little speaker and she screamed, Dia and Rachel nearly jumping out of their skin. "IT'S _HIM_." She gushed, jumping over the edge of the armchair and knocking it over in the process as she ran to her room.

"Hello?" Heather said in a high-pitched voice, boy did she sound desperate. "Er–Hello?" She asked again after calming herself down.

"Heeyyy, Heather. What's going on? Now's not a bad time, right?" Chace's voice came from the other end, Heather feeling ready to puke or die at that very moment. He called her, like he said he would. It didn't take him three whole days, either. She was so happy it was making her sick.

"No, no. I was just watching TV with the roomies, no biggie. How are you~?" She asked she asked in a sweet, happy tone, wearing the biggest smile on her face.

"Oh, sweet. I just got off of work. I'm so tired." He said in that gravely voice of his, Heather grinning like an idiot at the things he was telling her. Such simple things, but to hear it from him was pure heaven. "I'm on my way home to crash right now, but hey–Do you and your buddies wanna go for dinner tomorrow night or something?" He asked, Heather pumping her fist into the air.

"Of course! That sounds awesome. I'd love to. Ray and Dia will come, too." In all actuality, she wasn't sure if Dia was working or not, but she didn't care, they were coming, damn it.

"Great. Awesome." He said, Heather bouncing on the spot. "I'll stop by at eight?" She resisted the urge to giggle. This guy was so by-the-book, it was ridiculous.

"Sounds good." Heather said, smiling like the biggest dork and hopping around her room.

"Yeah, totally. See you tomorrow." Chace laughed as she jumped up and down on one spot.

"Okay–bye!" She got out before hanging up, and letting the loudest scream out ever. It wasn't long before Rachel ran into the room to check on her, and Heather nearly bowled her over. "HE ASKED ME OUT–WELL–_US_ OUT, BUT HE ASKED _ME_ OUT!" She shook Rachel violently, and Dia slipped into the room, nodding his approval.

"_Us_?" Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A double-date, RAY, a double-date! We're all going out to dinner tomorrow night!" Heather said, looking from Rachel to Dia.

"Why not." He shrugged, ever the passive one, the two girls going nuts, screaming and running all over the apartment.

* * *

"We're going to go shopping to buy you a new dress, because everything in here _sucks_." Rachel said, going through Heather's closet.

"Thanks." She uttered sarcastically while rolling her eyes. "Do you think he likes me, Ray?" She asked, lying on her bed playing with Romeo.

"I think if he didn't, we wouldn't be going _out_, silly." Rachel said, reemerging from the closet wearing one of Heather's favorite tops, a rich jade green with beads around the neckline.

"Ray, you're going to stretch my shirt with your gigantic tits, take it off." Heather said, Rachel pouting. "Chace Crawford... can you fucking believe it?" She couldn't stop smiling–her face was actually starting to hurt.

"You're incredibly lucky you were working the other night." Rachel said, Dia walking into the room with a bag of potato chips, chewing loudly.

"_Ray_, our problems are solved! We finally got Heather a man so now she'll stop being so angry all the time~!" He sang out, grabbing Rachel around the waist as Heather scoffed at him.

"Oh, thank God." Rachel grumbled, Heather sitting up.

"Hey! I'm sitting right _here_, you assholes!" She tossed a pillow in their direction but it barely reached them.

"Oh, AND–! She'll be out more," Dia mused, Rachel giggling. "Ugh, I can't wait for this awkwardness to be over~."

"I'm–still–here. Alright, you know what, get out. OUT, out, _out_!" Heather said, standing and pushing them both out of her room before she became obligated to kick their asses. Once they were out of her hair for the night, she jumped into her bed and lay there for what felt like forever. The anticipation of the events that would take place the following day had her wound up like a toy and she couldn't turn her brain off. She didn't fall asleep until the early hours of the morning, thinking about the guy who asked _her_ out. She wondered what his fascination with her was, he knew tons of beautiful, flawless women, so why her?

Then again, she hardly cared _why_, she was just glad it happened at all.


	6. Casual Dinner?

1:19 PM, September 30

* * *

"Ray, how am I supposed to get ready for a date with him in one day? This is going to be fucking impossible. Kill me now. I don't think I can do this... Ray. RAY?"

The girls were in a cab, caught in traffic on their way to the mall early Saturday to find something for Heather to wear that night to their dinner date with Chace Crawford. Heather was staring out the window, grieving and wringing her hands as Rachel sat quietly, texting away on her cellphone. Why he had asked her out was beyond Heather and any of her roommates, but she was the only one who seemed to be having a real issue accepting his being a "celebrity." Rachel looked up from her phone as Heather yelled at her, "Hm? Oh sorry, Dia–"

"No, no, I know it's Dia, you don't have to tell me. Look. I am having, listen–" Heather said, pushing Ray's phone away from her so she would at least look at her. "I am having a real crisis here. I can't go on a date with Chace Crawford."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "You can't?" She asked sympathetically, Heather nodding and Rachel patted her hand. "Okay, we can go home then, I guess, SIR, can you take us back please–"

"NO, no, no, don't do that! It's fine, keep going!" Heather cried hysterically in a high-pitched voice, Ray rolling her eyes and continuing to text Dia.

"Well, which is it?" She muttered, Heather wringing her hands again and checking her watch. It was nowhere near o'clock, but that was her nervous habit. Check the watch. Even if she had nowhere to be, check the watch. "It'll be fine, me and Dia-Bear will be there." Rachel cooed whilst saying her boyfriend's name, Heather shaking her head.

"No. You're right." Her friend nodded–but she started to panic, "I can do this, I can so do this.." She said out loud in an attempt to reassure herself, Rachel sighing and rolling her eyes. "I can't do this. We're going to eat dinner, and he's going to ask me questions, about my life," Heather always got anxious whenever she thought about her life, words spilling out faster than she could think twice about them–"I'm going to ruin everything, what if I injure somebody, what if he gets bored, what if he figures out he doesn't like me, what if I have something in my teeth?"–and that's how the rest of the day continued for the duo. In every store they went in, Rachel handed her at least twenty different dresses, none of which Heather liked.

"I look so bad. Oh my gosh. I look fat. This is terrible. My calves are huge." Heather complained in the dressing room, Rachel looking on wordlessly with one eyebrow raised high and her lips shut tight. Heather was skinnier and taller than most girls, there was zero reason for her to complain.

"Well, that's what heels are for." Rachel said, handing her a pair of black pumps.

"What? Oh no, I can't wear these, what if I fall... and twist my ankle all the way around?" Eventually, they decided on a dress, a little black number with matching satin pumps that supported her ankles.

"Now listen. I can't re-educate you on dating etiquette in six hours, but I'm going to try anyway, so pay very close attention." Rachel's voice rang out clear once they left the mall, the two of them toting large bags as they made for a hair salon. Heather did pay very close attention–after all, she had a boyfriend, and she was her best friend–so she listened intently.

"When Chace arrives, you smile–big–and kiss him on the cheek. Always go for the left, because you don't want that awkward moment when you guys nearly touch lips. When you walk, take small steps and don't pick your feet up too high or you'll stumble. When you order, make it as simple as possible or he'll think you're high maintenance. No dark greens, those could get stuck in your teeth and they will make you gassy. No meat. No dairy, either."

"Who orders dairy at a restaurant?" Heather asked, Rachel shushing her.

"Nothing really expensive. No garlic. Nothing that will make your breath smell bad. Nothing with high sodium because it'll make you bloat."

"So that leaves me with..."

"A salad, yes. No dressing." Rachel said as if it were that easy, but why eat anything at all? Heather sat whimpering as her hairdresser tugged and pulled at her hair, dreading the idea of salad with no dressing.

"Are you kidding me?" Heather asked, Rachel shrugging.

"Hey, I don't make up the rules."

There went those imaginary fucking rules again. "When you're comfortable enough around him to the point where you don't care that you have food in your teeth, you can eat whatever the hell you want."

Heather hid her face in her hands, the hairdressers exchanging amused glances behind them. Her friend's words only calmed her nerves only a little bit. She repeated this all nearly a hundred times to herself–as if it were that hard to remember–there and all the way home, where Rachel did her make-up, picking at her and complimenting her cheekbones, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

"You're a lady, so act like one. Always smile, and look like you're having a good time, even if you're not. Laugh at his jokes even if they're not funny, guys tend to appreciate small things like that. Try and draw as much attention to your lips as you can, don't wiggle around, and sit up straight. If you trip and fall and break your ankle, then you get back up and laugh it off." Rachel said quietly to Heather as Dia walked into the room, dressed for dinner wearing expensive jeans and a button-up shirt. "Annddd, done." Rachel said standing, Dia and her looking at Heather, whose head was spinning from all the instructions being dumped on her last-minute.

"You did good. I'm impressed." Dia stated, putting an arm around Rachel's waist.

"Our baby's grown up." She said with a half-shrug, Heather getting up and turning to look into the mirror.

It was like she was a completely different person. Not in a bad way, but with the combined make-up and hair, and new clothes she looked, amazing. "What did you do to me?" She asked in astonishment, her hands touching the black silk of her dress, the soft curls in her hair.

"Oh, well, I tried not to put too much make-up on you, I just–enhanced–your features." Rachel said, Dia applauding them both.

"Whatever it was, it looks great." Heather gaped at herself in the mirror, lips a shade brighter than her auburn hair, eyes outlined with a smoky gray color. Her eyes looked greener than ever.

"He should be here soon." Dia said as Rachel nodded, going to get changed herself, Heather staring at her reflection some more. "You look great, really." Dia said, Heather catching his eye. Was that a genuine compliment from the Dia Ashire? Things were getting scary, and fast. He picked up her favorite necklace that was lying on the bathroom counter–a silver chain with a tiny locket dangling from it–and fastened it around her neck for her.

"Thanks." Heather laughed, and he winked at her, patting her on the shoulder before exiting the bathroom. She gave herself a last fleeting glance in the mirror before following and making sure she had everything she needed in her purse. Checking and re-checking. Making sure the stove was switched off and the fridge was closed all the way. Only when Rachel and Dia came out of the room did she refocus her attention onto them.

"Heeyyy, guuyyys! Look, here's the deal, come sit." Heather said, pressing her fingertips together as they plopped onto the couch, holding hands. "So um–listen–look, stop touching each other–pay attention." Heather's voice wavered between anguish and determination, and they were on the couch giggling, watching her like little kids as Rachel scratched the bridge of her nose, Dia choking back laughs.

"When we go out tonight, Dia, you will not make stupid jokes–PAY ATTENTION–about sex, or–or jokes about me being bitter–and you will not tell stories about me getting fired–or any of my exes, or what happened that one day in McDonalds–" Heather said quickly, glancing at her watch more frequently now as if his arrival was synched with it.

"Aww, lame!" Dia said, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. The buzzer rang and Heather's heart began to beat wildly and she wracked her brains for more rules to give her friends.

"RACHEL, do not outdo me in the hotness, okay–you know what? Don't even talk to Chace, there." She was speaking very fast and Dia was still protesting but Rachel seemed to be okay with all of it as they started walking towards the front door. "Okay? Okay. Let's go."

She threw on her coat, the others doing the same and following her downstairs where she saw–Chace looking fantastic. For him it probably wasn't that hard. His hair was slicked back and he was dressed so sharply, Heather's newly-found ego was deflated in an instant. He had on a white shirt and a gray cardigan, with a light blue jacket that matched his eyes strewn over the other items as if it were just something thrown together last minute. He had on beige slacks and black shoes that shined even in the dark of the evening. Heather wondered if he ever worried about his looks at all the way she did. Their eyes met almost instantly and her face broke into a large grin, and she went weak in the knees as he walked towards her. She tried to remember what Rachel said as he greeted her.

"Heather! Wow, you look great!" He was so casual about it. She nodded as a sort of thank you and giggled, and he held a hand out towards her, stepping closer and she moved to kiss his left cheek. There was nothing awkward about it. Rachel was right after all. To have him that close had her heart pounding furiously and her palms started to go clammy.

"Dia, Ray!" Chace moved to give Dia a guy/pal hug as if they've known each other their whole lives, Ray sort of waving and pretending to be preoccupied with her purse–like Heather said–she wasn't allowed to talk to him.

"Well, I'm driving, my car's over here." Chace said, Heather tilting her head as they walked towards a shiny sleek automobile–probably still new–and not used a lot. She could hear Dia and Ray close behind her and it gave her more confidence to know they were there.

Chace opened Heather's door for her and she beamed at him, meanwhile Dia got in the car first and slammed the door with Rachel still on the outside. Luckily Chace didn't seem to notice, or pretended not to, even when Rachel got in the car and starting pinching her boyfriend.

"Seat belts, everybody. I drive a little fast." Chace added to Heather, who couldn't think of anything to say at all, so she continued to smile. She was in Chace Crawford's car. With Chace Crawford next to her. This was a very big deal, okay?

"Oh man, Chace, this thing is beautiful." Dia sighed, Rachel looking out the window and Heather fiddling with her necklace, thinking of something to say. Here she was, wracking her brain, while Dia and Chace talked about cars and Heather just wanted Dia to shut the fuck up so she could have a chance to talk to her own date. Luckily it wasn't a long drive, and they came to a ritzy restaurant–different from the one Heather _used_ to work at–Chace opening her door and holding out his hand for her. She smiled and took it, butterflies in her stomach as he helped her out of the car.

"_Compliment him_!" Rachel hissed into her ear while the valet disappeared with Chace's car. Heather looked around wildly and Rachel pushed her next to Chace, who opened the restaurant door for her.

"Thank you... chivalry isn't dead after all, I see." Heather got out, looking to Rachel who smacked her own forehead.

"Oh, anytime. My mother did raise me to be a Southern gentleman." Chace said with his best southern accent, Heather giggling madly even if it wasn't all that funny. It was actually quite cute–a low murmur that made goosebumps raise on her arms. "Table for four, please." He spoke in the accent to the maître d' who showed them to their table, placing menus in front of them, Heather continuing to laugh. Whilst she wracked her brains for subjects to talk about, their waitress came over and asked if they would like anything to drink, Chace answering in the same dialect that made Heather think of old cowboy movies Dia watched sometimes. "Boy, I _sure_ could go for a drink. I think we'll have some champagne and I'll have a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Dia?"

"Well that sounds mighty good, pilgrim, I think I'll have the same. Ray?" Dia mimicked Chace's accent, leaning onto the table with one elbow, pretending to tip his imaginary hat down.

Rachel folded her hands and spoke with a Southern-Belle-type twang, "Why a glass of whiskey would just make me the happiest girl in the world! How about you, Heather?" She asked, batting her eyelashes at Heather, whom everyone was now grinning at.

"Sure." She choked out in between laughing at them all, the waitress walking away slightly confused, poor girl. They all seemed to find this hilarious, Heather couldn't help but notice how loud each of them laughed.

"So um, Chace... you grew up in..." She stopped short, because she already _knew_ the answer. What could you ask a celebrity that you didn't already know about them?

"Oh, Texas. Then Miami." He said, Heather folding her hands and resting her chin on them.

"Really?" She chirped, tilting her head and fiddling with the salt shaker. "Wow. You're so lucky."

"You?" Chace asked clearing his throat, the other couple sharing their table pretending to be engaged in a conversation about the menu, and how _expensive_ everything was.

"Nia-ga-ra Fa-a-lls." Heather said painfully, Chace nodding slowly.

"That sounds pretty awesome." He said, tilting one hand towards her before moving it to play with his ear.

"It's... _not_." Heather laughed, shaking her head.

"No? Not even a little?" Chace asked, but she continued to shake her head and they both began to laugh.

Despite the nausea, paranoia, and fear that she was going to make herself look stupid, she was actually okay. He seemed to be enjoying himself and she believed she could really do this. But then she remembered she was out with a celebrity and she felt momentarily anxious before returning to normal.

At that moment, the waitress returned with the wine cart, placing their four glasses of whiskey in front of each of them, and about to open a bottle of champagne until Dia roared, "_TAKE COVER!_" Heather nearly jumped out her skin, and she wanted to pulverize him, Rachel hitting him with her napkin as he giggled like a mad man, Chace attempting to cover up his grin by taking a sip of whiskey. "Too soon?" Dia asked, Heather merely scowling. He broke one of her _rules_, damn it.

"Are you ready to order?" The waitress asked after a long period of staring at Dia, Heather hadn't even glanced at her menu, but it didn't matter. She already knew what to order.

"I'll have the chicken caesar salad." She said almost immediately, and she could see Rachel nodding out of the corner of her eye. Dia and Chace ordered two different types of steak and Rachel took ten minutes to order pasta. Heather wanted pasta, damn it all.

"So tell me, what's the story? How did you three end up living together here in the city that never sleeps?" Chace asked in a voice as if it were such an epic story to be told. It was funny to Heather, he slept in her bed the night before, but they barely knew anything about each other.

"Well, me and Ray have known each other since we were kids, and three years ago we decided to come to New York to live together." Heather said, Rachel nodding in agreement, Dia taking a swig of whiskey. "Then I got a job at the restaurant and _these two_ met while she was picking me up one night," She gestured to her friends, who laughed at her peeved tone, but she smiled anyway. "So, somehow Dia wormed his way into my apartment... I guess that brings us up to date. Not very exciting." Heather shrugged, tracing the rim of her glass with her fingertip.

"Well, I think it's wonderful." Chace said, nudging her, making her giggle. He grabbed his glass of champagne, which remained untouched and he held it up to them. "To old friends, and new ones." He said, Heather and her friends toasting along with him, all of them cheering as their glasses clinked together.

As Heather drank she realized, there was nothing to worry about that night. Everything was actually pretty perfect. She was sitting next to a cute guy who asked _her_ out. Perhaps it was the fact that he was _too_ cute that made her nervous, he was too good-looking. Forget that he was famous, he was prettier than her and why he would go out with her was trivial. Then again, this wasn't really a date. It was just dinner... the longer she thought about it, the more she started to feel nauseous again.

Just as she was beginning to space out, she felt Rachel's foot kick her sharply under the table and she nodded towards Chace. _Oh_. _Right_. But he beat her to it.

"I'm really sorry about you losing your restaurant gig, again," Chace began, but Heather just laughed it off.

"Oh no, it's no big deal, really. Blake's going to be okay, right?" She asked, trying to play it off as mild concern, but truly, she hoped she didn't blind her for life.

"Yeah, of course," Chace said as Heather sighed in relief, "She'll be fine when we start shooting on Monday... so... what other kinds of music do you listen to, besides Mindless Self Indulgence?" He grinned, rubbing his chin. At this, Dia howled with laughter and Heather pretended not to notice.

"Oh jeez, what don't I listen to? A little bit of everything, really. Deathcab, Eminem, old rock, new rock." Heather said quietly with a little half-shrug, but Dia and Rachel were leaning forward in their seats, absorbed in their conversation, waiting for Heather to mess up some more.

"Really? Same here, I guess. Mostly the older things. I'm not sure how to feel about all this, auto-tuned, repetitive, annoying-beat-shit they come up with these days." Chace shook his head, Heather letting out an airy laugh.

"You don't go to clubs or bars? I'm almost positive that's all they play there." She said, drinking from her glass of champagne. She didn't favor whiskey much.

"Hardly." Chace shrugged, "I only do if I'm invited somewhere, just because it'd be _rude_ not to, but other than that, I like my alone time to just sit at home and watch movies."

"What kind?" Heather chirped, Rachel told her not to fiddle, so instead she twisted her napkin in her hands underneath the table. No one seemed to notice.

"Well uh, I think the last one I watched on my own was Blazing Saddles. I could watch that movie over and over." Chace chuckled, Heather, Rachel, and Dia all cheering in accordance, "I like to indulge. I have my guilty pleasure movies, Lost Boys, 10 Things I Hate About You–"

"Do you like Fight Club?" Heather blurted out.

"Fight Club, yes, I love that one!" He laughed and nodded in response, making her giggle. It was only her favorite movie.

"You guys! We should start our own fight club." Rachel intervened, biting her pinky nail.

"In that case, I call the first fight with Heather." Dia said with a wink, draining his whiskey glass, Heather giving him a cold stare as the other two laughed at them.

"I'll bring Kanye." Chace threw in casually, Heather laughing shakily as her friends howled and snorted. She was constantly reminding herself that he was famous, that he really _did_ know Kanye West and it didn't seem to phase anyone but her, because they were sitting here talking about movies like it was nothing. Then their plates were set in front of them and her stomach turned over before she picked up her fork and ate a mouthful of salad. It wasn't that bad, but she wanted real food.

"Oh, _wow_." Dia groaned, slamming his hands on the table, "This is so good!" Heather wanted to stab him in the throat, but he was too far away–instead she tried to kick him in the shin, her foot making contact with Rachel's leg on accident and the poor girl yelped, Chace looking from one person to next in question.

"This is just–really good pasta." Rachel said, Heather blushing madly as she shoveled more salad into her mouth.

"So, how's the show going?" Dia asked casually, looking away from Heather to Chace.

"Oh, it's great... we shoot just about every day, and somehow they manage to air it one hour once a week, it's ridiculous." He said as if it were really such an absurd thing. "I don't know, I kind of just go with the flow." He laughed, Dia nodding and shoveling his food into his mouth.

"I'm not a huge fan, but these girls never shut up about thing like that." He said, pointing his fork towards Heather and Rachel. "Gossip Girl _this_, Glee _that_," He spoke in between bites, his girlfriend looking at him like he was really _just_ that grotesque. Sure, he was attractive–until he opened his mouth. Luckily Chace wasn't like that. He was actually sane, and sweet.

"You be quiet." Rachel ordered, Dia shaking his head.

"_THEN_, they obsess over shows on different levels, and they like–speak other _languages_, talking about who they _ship_ and making predictions–I don't know–I stay out of the way, they are _serious_ about that kind of stuff." He went on as Chace near hysterics, Heather wondering why she brought her friends along again, they were horrible people–and perfect for each other.

"I need more champagne." She muttered, waving over the waitress, who filled their glasses and walked away.

"So you like Glee then? My buddy Matt is on that show." Chace said, as if that were a normal thing to say. Heather already knew. She _knew_ they were friends.

"You don't mean Matt Morrison?" Rachel perked up, forgetting Heather's Don't-Talk-To-Chace-Rule, Dia groaning as if he didn't want to go near the subject, Heather gulping down more champagne.

"Yep, he's one of my best friends." He said, Rachel clasping her hands together.

"You know Matt Morrison. I can't believe it! He's _amazing_! He's great–we love him–well–not as much as Heather loves y–uh–yogurt. Heather loves _yogurt_, you know, frozen yogurt." Rachel said quickly, Heather burying her face in her hands.

"Oh, me too! We should get some." Chace grinned, nudging Heather, who made a noise that sounded something like a hiccup and a yelp in one. He just chuckled as Dia openly wondered who the hell this Matt person was that his girlfriend was gushing about. Chace didn't seem to mind. He was oddly focused on Heather, which she was not prepared for, but the alcohol soothed her nerves and made her feel warm and floaty–so she was alright. At least she wasn't fidgeting anymore.

"So, what do you _want_ to do? You said you worked for the paper. What do you want to do in say, five years?" He asked, shrugging and blurting out a random time frame, but she already knew the answer to this. She had planned it out, made lists of her goals, and thought about it many times since then.

"I want to be a writer." She sighed, already having polished off most of her salad. She didn't want to finish it completely and look like a pig. "I don't mean just writing tiny blurbs in the paper that no one probably reads, either, but like, best sellers..." She paused for a moment, resting her head in her hand and tracing the rim of her glass with the index finger of the other before continuing,"I don't want much. I think I'd like to at least be committed to someone by then." She said, shrugging and rolling her eyes simultaneously. She might have put some thought into this, just a little.

Chace was quiet and she wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not, but she kept on, "I want a dog, too. I have a thing for Great Danes." She smiled, biting her lower lip, head tilted slightly before she shook the thoughts out of her head. "It's silly." She laughed, Chace shaking his head.

"I think it's wonderful. I can't possibly plan that far ahead because I don't know what's going to happen next week. I mean, I always have to consider the fact that the writers can get rid of my character at any moment, and there's always other roles–but you never know. I could become one of those actors forever labeled by my one big role and thirty years from now I'll be balding and jobless and walking around Times Square with no front teeth." Heather began laughing incredibly hard, not expecting him to say something so personal, he seemed so sincere when he said it too, but she was laughing and so was he. She couldn't help but notice how straight and white his teeth were, and how he got little crinkles around his bright blue eyes that would probably set the older he got.

"You'll be a gorgeous old man." Heather said in a dream-like state. She wasn't fully aware of what she was saying, luckily the waitress came to ask if they wanted dessert while Chace gaped at her. Shit. Rachel hadn't gone over dessert with her. Perhaps The Invisible Rules of Dating didn't apply to sweets. She looked over to her friend, who didn't seem to be sending her any signals, so she looked over the dessert menu and ordered a slice of cheesecake, Chace ordering cherry pie, Dia the key lime pie and Rachel a quadruple... chocolate something.

"How do you order dessert without sounding like a little girl?" Dia wondered out loud, "Oh, can I get the scrumptious... deluxe... cupcake topped with frosting and nuts? I can't..." Dia said, shaking his head, Chace and Rachel laughing, Heather cracking a smile in spite of herself.

"I usually have the waitress say it for me." Chace said, Dia listening closely as Chace held up a fake menu. "What's that right there? Yeah, _that_. I'll have some of that." He pretended, nodding his head vigorously, Dia hitting his forehead.

"Good idea." He said, Heather choking back a laugh. Why were they such good friends already? This was not okay. Dia was like her worst enemy and Chace was her, _crush_? It was such a juvenile word, but either way, Dia plus Chace equaled no good.

Only five minutes later before dessert had even arrived, Rachel had leaned over to Dia and was whispering something into his ear before standing and running off, Chace looking around wildly. "What just happened?" He wondered, Dia standing, Heather rising up in her seat.

"Well, uh–she said she wasn't feeling well–I think the food made her sick or something... we're gonna get out of here, if that's okay with you guys?" He asked, picking up his girlfriend's purse and their jackets, Heather watching him closely.

"No, no, that's totally fine. Come on, I'll drive you home, it's no big deal, really." Chace insisted, looking to Heather, who nodded in agreement. Did that mean their date/not date/casual dinner was over? She didn't protest in the slightest, her friend was sick, that was upsetting in itself–but she was on a date with Chace-freaking-Crawford here. Now wasn't the best time to get sick. That's what she got for ordering pasta while all Heather got was a measly salad.

* * *

9:43PM, September 30

* * *

"I can't believe this." Heather sighed slowly shaking her head, sitting in the passenger seat of Chace's car, the curls in her hair coming undone as she stared straight ahead at nothing in particular, Chace drumming his fingers along the wheel of the car. "I guess this means that tonight is over?" They were outside of her apartment, Dia and Rachel had just gone up but Heather was still here, she really didn't want to leave. This was her one chance at establishing a relationship with Chace Crawford, and it was ruined. Now they would each go home, and he would probably _fuck_ Blake Lively and laugh whilst deleting Heather's number from his phone, and she would be forever alone and cuddle Rachel the rest of the night until Dia kicked her out of the room or something.

Chace merely looked at her, tilted his head and asked, "Says who? We can still do stuff." And in that instant, all of her fears melted away and she perked up, clasping her hands together.

"Really? We can?" Perhaps she sounded a little too desperate, but Chace nodded and smiled and it made her gut twist and she was positive she was going to be sick next.

"Yeah I mean, we're having fun, right?" He took his hands off the wheel to slap his hands against his knees in an absent-minded way, Heather nodding as he pulled out a stick of gum and popped it into his mouth. "Yeah, I don't want to go home, Heather, please don't make me go home." He pleaded, making her giggle as he said her name. "It's boring there. I'd stay up playing solitaire on my phone all night until I fell asleep or something."

Her heart was pounding and she began laughing, covering her face. He was so adorable, it drove her crazy. "Okay. Let's go somewhere... I'm still a little hungry." She admitted, Chace nodding enthusiastically as he started up his car.

"_Thank_ you, that steak was smaller than the palm of my hand, and it was fifty dollars alone." He muttered, and it wasn't long before they found themselves sitting in a dark, deserted McDonald's parking lot, bags of food in their laps with the radio playing quietly. It wasn't Heather's immediate idea of a perfect first date/not date/casual dinner, but it was still better than anything she could have imagined. The low murmur of the deejay's voice was soothing, Heather shoving a handful of fries into her mouth, her shoes and coat removed and tossed carelessly onto the backseat. Chace had removed his jacket and cardigan and she had a _perfect_ view of his biceps. It was all too wonderful.

"Do you think Ray's going to be alright?" Chace asked over the sound of the ice cubes in his cup knocking together as he picked it up, Heather watching as he brought the straw to his lips and began sucking on it.

"_Hm_? Oh, _yeah_. She'll be _fine_." She grimaced, shaking her head and dismissing the subject. He cared about her friends, which was sweet, but she still felt angry with them... for reasons. "I'm sorry about that, this night has been... pretty insane."

Chace laughed loudly, and it shook her to the bone to hear it, she wondered if she could just have him there and then, would it be too brash, too bold–and why not? He was so cute and she just wanted to kiss the dimples that formed around his mouth when he smiled.

"You think so?" He asked, and she simply raised her own straw to her lips and bat her eyelashes at him. His hair was becoming messier by the second, but Heather had no complaints, she didn't like his hair slicked back too much. It made him look too uptight. She just watched him eat as the radio churned out some old R&B song from the sixties that made her sway slightly in her seat as she polished off the rest of her burger. "It's been a long time since I've had this much fun." Heather kind of scoffed at that, he was famous, didn't he always have fun?

"That's _hilarious_." She was only slightly amused, munching on more fries as he shook his head.

"No, really! It's either work–or hang out with people the same people that you see day in and out, it gets so mundane, but it's so comfortable, so you don't really notice it." Heather had to think on this, because even though Chace was describing his life, really he was talking about hers too.

"No, no, that's true!" She _didn't_ really notice it, because it _was_; go to work, come home, and hang out with the happy couple for _her_. Nothing she could do about it, she had grown too accustomed to it. Why go out and socialize with new people when her best friends already lived in her apartment? They were totally holding her back. Stupid couples. "That's exactly right. I don't go out much, either. I mean, I _used_ to, but that was before Rachel and Dia practically settled down, now none of us leave the apartment."

He nodded, it was so great that they were on the same page. "Yeah! Then like, dating is hard enough for me because–well, I'm an actor, and let's just say finding a girl who doesn't want you for your money isn't exactly a piece of cake." He sighed, and Heather just wanted to hold him, but instead she pouted her lips.

"I'm sorry to hear." Actually, it didn't sound _terribly_ horrible, he had chicks lined up around the block to date him probably–and here he was–eating McDonald's in his car with some random redhead from Niagara Falls. He just smiled at her and dug out an apple pie, Heather watching him before realizing it probably wasn't nice to stare, the poor thing probably got enough of that. "How do you know I'm not like that?" She raised an eyebrow at him, wearing a mischievous little grin as she nudged him with her elbow.

He gave another booming laugh and he looked at her, shaking his head. "You're too sweet to be like that."

"How do you know, though?" She insisted, pouting again. It was perhaps a little disheartening in the way he laughed, like she was an adorable little teddy bear and the thought of her being scandalous in any way was just so amusing to him. Although, on the three encounters they've had, she probably didn't give him much reason to believe that she was a money-grubbing skank. She was so PG it was insane, she hadn't even tried to make a move on him, even when he spent the night–intoxicated–in her bed.

What the hell was wrong with her?

"You're just too _cute_, I wouldn't believe you were like that even if it were true. Other girls, definitely." He chuckled, and her face flushed. He called her cute. All she picked out from that was that he called her cute. Stop the presses. "I mean, let's be honest, that whole love-at-first-sight stuff is overrated. It's impossible to fall in love with someone you know absolutely nothing about."

"Is it?" Heather asked, how ironic he would say something like that, with a face like that, how could you not fall in love with him? It was a stretch to say that she _loved_ him, so that theory didn't apply to them exactly. "I think Ray and Dia fell in love at first sight." She sighed, letting her head fall on the headrest behind her and staring into space again. "They were lucky. I hate them."

"Did they? How so?" He asked with mild interest, arms stretching outwards, one resting on the headrest behind her.

She gave a deep sigh, smiling slightly as she thought about it, "I don't know, they just kind of _found_ each other and now they're inseparable. They gravitated towards each other, like... soul mates... and now they'll never have to look for anyone else again. You don't believe in that?" She asked, tilting her head up to look at him and he gave a half-shrug before nodding.

"No, I believe in it."

"I want that." She didn't want to scare him off with all of her "_soul mates_" talk, so she didn't say anything more on the subject. It was just that kind of stuff that really made her want to believe in true love, and believe in all of the nonsense you hear about in fairy tales that made you look forward to falling in love. Who didn't want that? Heather's had plenty of boyfriends and she was positive that she's never loved any of them. Ray only had to try once, just _once_ and _BAM_ she found her freaking life partner. Chace merely smiled warmly and pat her on the shoulder like she was his guy-pal.

There was a long pause, and silence save for the gentle hum of the radio before Chace asked, "Ready to go home?" He stopped in mid-reach for his keys as she groaned loudly.

"Only if you promise to spend the night again." They were both laughing but Heather was only half-joking. She wasn't really ready to go home, she wanted to just sit in his car and talk to him forever and ever, not go home to Dia and that _puke machine_ and then sleep alone.

They arrived at her apartment minutes later, that time spent by Heather laughing hysterically at Chace, who kept singing along to the radio in a funny baritone voice the entire way home. The closer they drew to her place, the quieter she grew. She really didn't want the night to end. "Wait here." Chace said, exiting the car and opening her door for her–she would have to get used to the whole, having-doors-opened-up-for-you, rather than having them shut in your face thing. He extended a hand for her to take, helping her out of the vehicle–a good thing too; she didn't feel like eating the pavement this late. She thought it was rather–odd–however, when Chace locked the doors of his car. They weren't _going_ anywhere, and this wasn't even a bad neighborhood, but whatever.

Her mind settled on him, and how to say goodbye–especially when when they were both standing on the steps of the stoop awkwardly–him standing with his hands in his pockets, her fumbling with her keys. Should she hug him? Kiss him? Shake his hand? How did you depart from your date/not date/casual dinner partner? She looked up at Chace shyly and he merely rocked on the balls of his feet. "Well, what are you waiting for?" She only looked at him as if he had gone crazy. What was he expecting from her? Her heart started hammering against her chest wildly–if it wasn't already.

"For...?"

"I thought I was spending the night."

Heather had to wheel around on the heel of her foot to cover up the insane amount of blushing she was doing as she fumbled with her keys, trying to fit the proper key into the lock before entering the building, Chace right behind her. He wasn't serious, he wasn't really going to stay? Why would anyone want to do that, _ever_. There was an awkward moment on the landing as he stood with his hands in his pockets, Heather unlocking the door to her apartment and standing in one spot, letting him in before following and locking the door behind her. There was no sign of her roommates–no noise, no indication that they even existed, which meant they were most likely asleep and that was _alright_ with her. She didn't feel like seeing their smug faces upon entering the premises with Chace.

They both kicked off their shoes and Heather motioned for his jacket and he removed it, handing it to her before pointing to her room. "Mind if I use the bathroom?"

"No, go right ahead. Let me get you some... pajamas?" Then he was gone and she was standing there alone in the hallway and she wasn't sure what to do. Chace Crawford wanted to sleep over–no–right. She quietly opened the door to Rachel and Dia's bedroom, and something about seeing them cuddled together fast asleep tugged at her heartstrings. Ray getting sick wasn't all _that_ bad after all, and they were freaking adorable, she couldn't stay mad at them for long. She opened the dresser and pulled out a pair of Batman pajama bottoms that belonged to Dia, Heather had bought them for his birthday and she's never seen him wear them, _once_, the asshole. She left quietly and walked into her bedroom, rapping on the bathroom door lightly. "Here you go..."

"Thanks!" Chace's voice rang out as he groped the air for the pants, Heather handing them to him before he shut the door. She should probably change, too?

She darted into her closet, shimmying out of her brand new dress and disposing of it on the floor, snatching up the first thing she could find to sleep in (a long sweater with a teddy bear on it) and tugging it over her head. She hopped into bed just as Chace opened the bathroom door, wearing his white shirt and the pajama bottoms, looking disgustingly adorable holding onto his other clothes. "What should I do with these?" He wondered, looking around as Heather threw the large down blanket over her.

"Ehh, just throw them anywhere." She shrugged, and he did, even his clothes made a pretty little pile on the floor. "Can you turn the light off?" Heather added as Chace walked past the door, shutting that as well. Was this really happening? She pinched herself just to be sure.

No, it was real. She felt the mattress shift and bend to Chace's weight as he settled into the bed next to her, it was like they were married already. It was a little bit odd at first, because he was turned away from her. As if he were just some random person who happened to be occupying a space in her bed, so several moments later she addressed this with, "You mind if we cuddle? With you laying that way it just feels awkward." It wasn't her trying to make a pass at him, in the most innocent sense, it just felt wrong to have their backs turned towards each other.

"I was just about to say the same thing." Chace muttered, turning over quickly and wrapping his arms around her middle, figure conforming to hers, knees tucked in slightly. The rustling of the blankets died down and Heather could hear nothing but him breathing and feel her pulse pounding. He was so close. Was this alright? Was this legal? She was far too sober for this. "That's better." He sighed, raising his head just enough so Heather could look at him. "Are you comfortable?"

"Yeah, yeah." She nodded, and he laid his head back on the pillow. They were using the same pillow.

"This is nice." He said matter-of-factly, as if he were talking about the weather but no–to Heather it was much, _much_ bigger than that. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to focus on not seeing him like a very hot, famous television actor and just see him as Chace, a regular guy. The guy who she thought was stalking her in the park... then she just realized that Chace was just a very good-looking man in general and she still felt panicky.

"Yeah... it is. Goodnight, Chace." She said, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Goodnight, Heather.


	7. A Bed and Breakfast

7:53AM, October 1

* * *

When Heather awoke she was having trouble differentiating dreams from reality, her headache was certainly real, and she could only discern a few memories from yesterday that were most likely fake. Too good to be real. But she could feel the warmth and weight of someone else in her bed was certainly _real_, and she could definitely hear the snoring in her ear, and feel the warm breath on the back of her neck that sent goosebumps running along her arms. She propped herself up on her elbow, still half-asleep as she looked over her shoulder at a Chace Crawford laying in her bed. She looked at her watch, lay her head back upon the pillow, and closed her eyes...

"What..." She sat up, fully awake now and aware of her surroundings. _Oh my God. _covered her mouth with her hand in an attempt as to not make any noise, and to not wake him as she started hyperventilating. Why. Was. He. Here? She couldn't seem to piece it all together correctly. Part of her just wanted to accept it, curl against him and go back to sleep, but when she realized his hand was on her thigh, she practically started kicking and screaming, the blankets flying off of them and by then it was too late. His eyelids began to flutter open to the loud thunk of Heather attempting to scramble out of bed, yet she had successfully gotten the blankets tangled around her legs and landed face-first on the ground instead.

She gave a yelp and it took him a few moments as he slowly wriggled over to peer at her on the ground. "What are you doing?" He murmured in a low rumble that nearly made her heart stop.

"I'm not really sure." She muttered, looking up at her rat in his cage. She could practically hear his little mouse giggles. Chace lowered a hand and she took it automatically, grunting as he pulled her up with a surprising amount of ease. She brought the blankets up, tossing them back onto the bed, eyes drinking him in fully in the morning light. His hair was a mess, his beard was beginning to show, and he was just so _beautiful_, she could hardly catch her breath. His eyes sparkled blue beneath his abnormally long eyelashes and she couldn't help but wonder how anyone's chromosomes could have combined so perfectly down to the last detail. He was laying on her lilac sheets and she just wanted to grab the nearest pillow and smother him with it. This couldn't be happening. After a very long time of standing in one spot and looking at him, which might not have been weird at all, she turned away and covered the blush on her cheeks as Chace began to laugh.

"You okay? Are you normally this wild in the mornings?" He thought this was fucking _hilarious_, but _she _didn't think it was funny at all, thinking back to the morning before where she tried to choke her best friend out in front of him. Albeit, his laugh was hypnotizing and enough to make her forget her embarrassment for a moment or two as she moved back onto the bed, legs tucked underneath her. He rolled over onto his back to make room for her, stretched, yawned loudly, Heather's eyes moving to his bare abdomen and his waist, then back to his face. It was criminal, how badly she wanted to touch him, but she didn't think that would be appropriate. She wondered how would he react. Would he touch her back, or run for the hills? Both ideas scared her.

"I think you only stay over to lay on my mattress." Was the first thing to come out of her mouth, and he started to laugh again–that sound that echoed off the walls of her room and her mind.

"'It _is_ a nice bed. Really comfy. I don't have as many pillows, or blankets like this... what is this, fleece?" He asked, picking up a soft white blanket Heather wrapped around herself on cold days.

"Yes." She watched him curiously as he smiled at her, part of her just wanted to shove him off of her bed and out of her room, this was her safe zone and he looked so damn comfortable here. This had to be some sort of sick joke. Already she could hear the sounds of her roommates moving around the kitchen, the sounds of the television being turned on and pots and pans being shuffled around. _Damn _it. It was either go outside and be mocked mercilessly by her lowlife pals or stay inside of her room with Chace all day until they left, or, died. She wasn't sure which one she wanted more, or less. She was trapped.

She was in the process of studying his dimples when he moved to sit up and she had to reel back, her heart hammering against her ribs, and he broke the silence with, "Do you mind if I use your shower?" It took her awhile to process that, and she blinked once, twice, before answering him.

"Yeah." She mentally scolded herself for sounding like a broken record before adding, "Go right ahead." As he got up to make his way across the room to her bathroom, Heather began to feel like a creep for just staring at him the way she did, and when she heard the door click shut, she gave a groan and fell back onto the mattress, dragging the blankets up around her neck. When the shower hissed and came alive, she started thinking about her dream she had the other night, and began to gnaw on her lower lip. He was in her shower, a few feet away stood a naked man she's wanted to see naked very badly, but her mind was blank. She tried preoccupying herself with things to do instead of thinking of Chace's nudity because that wasn't doing her any good, instead she rose and played with Romeo for a bit, fed him and cleaned his cage. Now that she looked at her room in the daylight, it was a complete mess from all the dinner preparation she and Ray did the day before.

She began to tidy up, picking up all the clothes and stuffing them inside of her closet and throwing away miscellaneous trash; magazine clippings and price tags torn from clothes. She really wanted to return that dress she picked out yesterday, it cost a fortune but Ray made sure the tags were taken off so she couldn't. She began to feel a bit more at peace with the world once her room was clean, maybe now Chace wouldn't think she was a pig as well as a gaping weirdo. She moved across the room to stand in front of her window, gazing out at the New York City street, watching a cyclist here, a man toting groceries there, it was a beautiful Sunday, and the best part was; no work. No boss. Just Chace in her bedroom. The day was turning out to be beautiful. She stretched her arms high above her head. Her sweater, which ended just below her bottom now rose above her waist.

She didn't even notice when the shower turned off, or when Chace reentered the room behind her. She gave a start at the sound of him clearing his throat. "Ssshhit! You scared me!" Heather turned around quickly, pulling her sweater down around her waist, wondering how long he stood there before making any noise. She liked to think that he didn't just scope her ass, but the smug grin he wore told her otherwise. That was when her stomach dropped down to the floor, when she saw him.

"Sorry... have you seen my pants?" She could feel herself turning a nice shade of red again and she had to divert her eyes to the gray carpet before she made an ass of herself. Chace was standing in the middle of her room, towel wrapped around his waist, hair slicked back except for a few locks, water sliding over his skin down to the floor. She fought the urge to close her eyes, god, what was she, twelve? This time it wasn't a dream, and he was really here and she wasn't sure her brain could process that information nor answer him, but she pointed to his clothes which were accidentally tossed into her hamper along with her clothes. He moved to retrieve them, and she nearly melted into a puddle on the floor at the sight of the dimples located on his lower back. _Fffuuck_.

"I'm going to hop in the shower... did you have to be somewhere today?" Heather kept her eyes glued to the floor as Chace ruffled through her clothes, to get to his.

"Nah, not today... if you're not doing anything, did you want to go get breakfast?" Just when she was thought enough was enough, her eyebrows furrowed to accompany her confusion, he wanted to go, do more stuff?

"Oh... I don't know, Chace." She could feel the butterflies in her stomach threatening to spill from her lips, occasionally she would glance up at him and look away again, brushing her bangs out of her face and behind her ear. "Look, you don't have to keep doing all this stuff with me, all this... being nice and junk." Now his expression mirrored hers, but the words kept coming out before she could contain them, "You don't have to keep hanging out with me, or worry about me because even if you don't really like me, and decided to never call again, that would fine, I'd be fine." She crossed her arms over her chest, she didn't need anyone feeling sorry for her, or going on pity dates with her. He was just being nice, that's all. Who was he to be staying over and laughing with her friends and taking her out places? What did you call that? She barely knew him. She was expecting him to just leave, and never call her again like part of her wanted, but instead he just began to laugh at her, and it was anger that crossed her features this time around. "What, what's so funny?" She demanded to know.

"You." He said in between laughs, clothes in one hand, the other running through his hair before he crossed his arms. "I don't know what to say, except, I like hanging out with you. This last week? Has been so much fun for me," Heather gaped at him with an open mouth, this was most definitely the most interesting week she's ever had, she injured a famous person and lost her job for it, but went out to dinner with another. "You're just really kind, and sweet, and–I'm sorry, if I've made you uncomfortable, I guess I kind of overstepped my boundaries, here, look if you need me to leave..." He brought his free hand up, scratching underneath his left eye, her eyes tracing the motion, lips slightly parted.

"No! No, you're fine, you didn't, do anything wrong..." She said, half dazed, half terrified of how close she was getting to chasing him off forever. "I like hanging out with you too..." Her eyes swept over his bare chest before meeting his gaze again. "I'm sorry. I tend to be a little dramatic sometimes."

"I've noticed." Chace chuckled and gave an eyeroll, and she tried to frown but smiled despite herself. She had to stop, doing crazy shit before she ended up scaring off Chace or something along those lines. She really adored him and didn't want him running off into the arms of some crazy gold-digging whore who treated him badly.

"I guess it's been awhile since anyone's wanted to hang out, you know, with me." She muttered, the closest she ever got to a date was when she third-wheeled it whenever Ray and Dia brought her along on _their _date nights, those were always fun. At least she got free popcorn and movies out of it.

"I find that hard to believe." He grinned again, and she wanted to punch him in the jaw for doing so, and still not having any clothes on yet. "Sooo... did you still want to get breakfast?" Heather nearly choked on her own words.

"I don't know... I don't think we should go out in public, alone, together. I mean, people might see us..."

"People would definitely see us." He said pointedly, still smirking.

"Yeah, they would. So, no, no thank you." She marched towards the bathroom, wanting to kick him for giggling at her the way he did. What if the paparazzi saw them while they were out? Everything would get blown out of proportion, and people were really mean, she would never be left alone. They would find out where she lived, who her friends were. They would have to move. She couldn't do that to Ray and Dia. If she was going to continue to be friends with Chace, they would have to be subtle about it. He might have to start wearing a trench coat, and the idea almost made her purr. "I'm going to take a shower now." She reminded him, she wanted to get away from this conversation while she could. "You can stay here for breakfast. I'm sure Dia and Ray won't mind the company." As much as she dreaded seeing her roommates, she didn't want _Chace_leave yet and she certainly didn't want to go outside with him, so she would suffer the ridicule of her friends, lord knows she's heard it all before.

"Sounds good. I'm going to put some clothes on first, I don't want to scare anyone." This time it was her turn to grin, it wasn't necessary for him to get dressed. She was totally fine if he wanted to walk around naked all day. He didn't need to know that, though.

Her bathroom was still warm and damp from Chace's shower, she could practically feel him standing there in the room, which made it all the more difficult to undress and bathe herself. She pulled it off without a hitch, wrapping herself in a towel and peeking into her room to make sure Chace wasn't in it before exiting the bathroom. She could hear Dia's loud ass voice through the walls and Chace's laughter, and she knew they were mingling. She hated the idea of them having conversations without her but what could she do about that? She considered investing in a microphone for the kitchen.

It took her almost thirty minutes to blow-dry her hair and pick out an outfit that she deemed both parts equally comfy and sexy to wear while Chace was over. She picked out her best bra and matching underwear, a snug-fitting tank top and boxer shorts with a floral print on them. She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it out lightly at the roots, she always got super pretty whenever Chace was around. She pulled Romeo out of his cage, kissing him on the head and placing him on her shoulder for courage. On the way out of the room, her hand rested on the doorknob and she listened to the sounds of the radio, the tv, her friends. Chace. Her heart began to palpitate again before she opened it to see Chace and Dia sitting at the kitchen table already, Rachel manning the coffee maker, neat little veggie omelets placed where everyone would sit, a large plate of bacon and buttered toast acting as the centerpiece.

"Good morning, star shine!" Rachel called over the iPod dock churning out an old Weezer song in the kitchen, hands wrapped around a mug. Dia was sitting in his usual seat, bare-chested and in his pajama bottoms, reading Punisher comics and shoveling eggs into his mouth, drinking from a juice box. Chace was reading an outdated local paper in the same white-collared shirt and jeans he had on the night before. Although Heather didn't mind the ruggedness and the messy hair he was sporting, not one bit, especially when he looked up and grinned widely at her. It took her a few moments to realize Ray was speaking to her again. `"Coffee or tea?"

_"Say it ain't so,  
y__our drug is a heartbreaker.__  
__Say it ain't so,__  
m__y love is a lifetaker."_

"As if you have to ask." She retorted, moving around to her seat. The omelets looked amazing. "Who did all this?" It was an impressive array of colors and smells, it made her realize that she was hungrier than she realized.

"It was just something Dia and I whipped up." Chace said casually, as if it was no big deal. But to her it was a huge fucking deal, she almost fanned herself just then but picked up her fork instead. Chace being able to cook was impressive to her. It also turned out that even though Dia was a just-okay waiter, but he was an amazing chef, which balanced out the fact that no one else in the apartment could cook spit. He seemed to not have noticed she even entered the room yet, but she could feel Rachel watching her over the rim of her mug with her big, brown judgmental eyes. Neither of them had uttered a word about Chace staying the night, at least not to her. Perhaps they would be kind enough to wait until Chace was gone to start to ridicule-fest.

It didn't take long for Dia to fuck everything up between sips of his juice box. "Yeah, figured you guys would be starving after your sex marathon last night." As soon as he said that, Heather began to choke on the first bite of food she took, Chace reaching over and rubbing her back until she swatted it away on reflex.

"Excuse me? You were asleep when I got home, what makes you think we–" She got out, she couldn't even finish her sentence at that point, it was too embarrassing.

"It's okay, Heather, it's a basic animal function, no need to be ashamed. I can tell when someone got it in, look Ray, she's glowing." Dia pointed a piece of bacon at Heather, Rachel nodding in agreement, god help her if she didn't want to hurl something heavy and blunt at their skulls just then. Chace seemed to think her friends were just the living end, he was nearly red from laughing so much.

"Oh my god! Dia, shut up. Shut up! Nothing happened! Chace, don't encourage them! Oh my god." She muttered into her hands, fingers pressed into her temples. They had to ruin, everything. She wasn't sure if she was more mad at the fact that Dia was utterly humiliating her in front of her numero uno crush and there was no way she could strangle him without going to jail, or because nothing really had happened the night before, both facts were a little more than depressing any way you sliced it.

Rachel shuffled over, placing Heather's Batman mug down on the table in front of her, patting her on the head with a, "Here's your tea, dear. Hot and steamy, just like you like it." If the girl didn't move so fast, she might have been pinned down on the table in a half-nelson.

"Nice one, babe." Dia grinned, leaning his head upwards to receive a kiss, oh how Heather would have liked to bake them into a giant omelet and eat it slowly, piece by piece.

"You both are fucking idiots, I hate you, I'm taking my omelet over to the couch and I'm not speaking to either of you for the rest of the day." Heather got out in the most calm tones she could manage, grabbing her plate, loading it up with bacon and toast and furiously marching over to the couch which could not be more than three feet away in their tiny apartment. "Come on Chace, come sit with me. We don't need them."

It was Dia who answered this with a blank gaze and a, "Ouch. I really feel the rejection there, Heather, really I do. What is this, the sixth grade? I'm mortally wounded for the rest of eternity." His voice dripping with sarcasm in between sips from his juice box, which was normally her niche, but she was too furious to be anything but at the moment.

"Morons." Heather growled, Chace plopping down next to her on the sofa carrying his plate and mug of coffee, Romeo crawling over the back towards him.

"Oh, come now, they're just poking fun." Chace said in that low rumble of his, and she made a spectacle of dramatically turning her head sideways to look at him. She wanted to ask why he was still here, but every time she looked at him, she didn't mind having him around. Romeo was taking a real interest in climbing all over him, sniffing at his plate. "Can I give him some toast? Oh, you know what, help yourself, you... you rat!" Chace emphasized the "r" as Romeo tore off a chunk of bread and ran to the far end of the couch with it, sitting on the armrest and nibbling on it.

Heather couldn't help but laugh. "My rat, just stole your food. I'm sorry–but you didn't put up much of a resistance."

"Nope, I guess I didn't." He was laughing and she was watching the lines in his face shift and change, the way his eyes crinkled and his lips pull back to reveal his perfect teeth.

She never imagined she would be sitting on her couch eating breakfast with this, insanely beautiful celebrity that she had met mere days ago. She still was not completely sure why he hung around so often, slept in her bed, cooked in her kitchen, laughed with her friends like it was nothing. He was practically at home. It was almost like he was meant to be there, always. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked with a full mouth in between bites of her toast.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was giving you a look. I'll look away." Chace was grinning like an idiot as he shoveled eggs into his mouth, cartoons flickering on the television screen as Heather glared at him. After a few seconds, she resumed eating, but the silence didn't last long between them. What with the noise of Ray and Dia laughing at each others obnoxious jokes over the music and the television, it could hardly be considered silence. "So, you went to NYU, huh?" He asked out of no where.

"How... did you know I went to NYU?" She wondered out loud, thinking maybe one of her roommates told him, because she surely couldn't remember doing so. Her mind wandered back to the park where they had their second encounter, maybe he really was stalking her.

"I saw your diploma in your room. I only just noticed it today, when I was getting dressed." He said with a full mouth, Dia could be heard snickering at the table behind his hand. God, he was so nosy. "That's a pretty good school."

"Oh." Heather sighed with relief, "Yeah, it was. Pretty expensive, too." And what did she get out of it? Not much, except now she was in debt a couple thousand dollars and she had to work it off by running to Starbucks and getting that fatass Jina her skinny lattes.

"Really? So I've heard. What'd you major in?" He broke off another piece of toast and handed it to Romeo, Heather watching him curiously.

"English, with a minor in creative writing..."

"Wow. I'm impressed, and a little intimidated."

"Why? It's just college, didn't you go?" Heather scoffed before taking a long drink of her lemon tea.

"Yeah, for about a year and a half in Miami... then I got into acting, and it all sort of fell into place after that." Chace raised another bite of eggs to his mouth, she had finished before him. She always ate too fast, she always knew, Dia made fun of her for it, Ray thought she had worms. Feeling partially disgusted with herself, she placed her empty plate on the low end table they played Monopoly on the other night. There were still pieces scattered here and there.

His life seemed so vastly different from hers, it was how she always imagined life with be, you grow up, go to high school, go to the movies with your friends on the weekends, go to prom, go to college, marry your high-school sweetheart. That was what his life seemed like. Hers couldn't be father from opposite of that sort of clean, straight-laced life.

She only wished her life would fall into place for her, that she could achieve greater things without even trying. But at that moment, Chace Crawford was sitting next to her in her living room, so she had no excuse to be bitter just then. She couldn't help but smile at him.

"You know, I used to be in a fraternity." When he said that, she gave him one of the most genuinely puzzled looks automatically, and he shook his head. "I know, right? That was a pretty confusing time for me, I'll admit. I had all these odd jobs, like being a valet, or modeling, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to major in this or that, or if I wanted to be a doctor, like my dad... but I wasn't really crazy about any of it, but that sort of stabilized me, a little... I guess none of it really mattered, you know? I ended up doing something completely different."

"I know what you mean. Funny how that happens, isn't it? I barely get to write anything, Dia waits tables, Ray's unemployed–"

"Oh no you didn't, I make more money than you or Dia!" Ray pointed her fork at Heather, her boyfriend nodding behind his comic book.

"Jesus, Ray, I was kidding!" Heather laughed, Chace chuckling and placing his plate next to hers and taking a long drink from his mug, which was actually one of her mugs; black with a Batman symbol on it.

"Well, we're still young. There's plenty of time to get to where we want to be." Was his response, and she rested her hand in her palm, in awe of how amazing this person sitting next to her was.

"I guess so." He was right, as badly as Heather wanted to become a writer now, he was right, it would take a lot of time for anything of hers to get published.

She was so fascinated by him, every aspect of his appearance up close; the stubble decorating his chin, how long his eyelashes were. Every motion he made; the muscles in his forearm shifting as he set the mug back onto the table, the way his Adam's apple shifted as he swallowed. Her roommates had become oddly quiet and for that she was thankful; she liked to have a few quiet moments to herself.

"Thanks for breakfast, again... you're actually starting to make the girls in this house look bad." Heather gave an uneasy laugh, her rat making his way back into her lap after unsuccessfully reaching the table with the food scraps on them.

"Don't even worry about it, it was nothing." He was smiling awfully wide, she noticed. He stretched his arms high above his head before leaning back and placing his hands behind his head. She had to tear her eyes away and look down at the rat twisting and scrambling around in her lap. "I'm sorry, I hate to do this, but I should really go home soon... I don't want to overstay my welcome." He laughed, nudging her in the arm with his elbow. She didn't say anything, but her pulse quickened; she had been nervous about him hanging around, but she certainly didn't want him to leave. "We have to film all through Thursday, I should probably... do my laundry, or return some phone calls, it's the least I can do. I bet my agent's pissed at me."

Heather looked up at him with something of a bemused expression, that was such a weird thing to hear. For a while he would seem like such a normal guy, then he would go saying things like that that made her remember he was a stinking rich celebrity and it made her confused and paranoid all over again. "Are you sure, I mean, you don't have to go if you don't want to? But if you have to, that's fine." She started, she wanted to say so much more, like "Please don't leave, I want you to stay longer, I need you to stay," but the lingering look he was giving her made her shut her mouth and turn red.

"Yeah, I have to." The way he way looking at her now made her more uncomfortable than she had ever felt around him before and she wasn't sure how to handle it.

"Well," she said drawing herself up, trying to recompose herself, "I guess that's that, then. Let me grab your coat." She got up without looking at him still holding her rat, and he stood and stretched again, grunting loudly. It had been awhile since Heather had spent any time with a guy who wasn't one of her brothers, or like her brother; it made her appreciate every movement and sound Chace made that much more.

She retrieved his jacket from the night before out of the closet in the entrance way, fingers lingering on the leather for a few moments before pulling it out. He was standing next to her, pulling his shoes back onto his feet, looking up and giving her another one of his little grins. Why was he so sweet? Was he like this all of the time, did he want something, what was he thinking? Heather would have given anything to know just then. Placing Romeo on her shoulder, she held the jacket up and Chace turned, sliding his arms into the sleeves before turning to face her, fixing his collar.

"Thanks." He said quietly, and she had to look away again before she fainted, and hit her head on something and had to be dragged to the hospital, which wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened...

"Yeah, so... I'll see you around, most likely?" Heather asked as Chace checked his pockets for his phone and his keys. She could imagine what that might have looked like; it was midday and he was leaving with what he came with, and it looked bad but really it wasn't. He was a nice guy who was oddly, really chivalrous and sweet in a way that was almost lost among most men she knew. She tried not to make a big deal out of it as she opened the door for him; she wasn't kicking him out, she was just trying to distract herself from the possibility of him considering the possibility of never coming back here again. If he ever came back to her place a third time, she would consider herself unusually lucky. It wouldn't be long before the poles shifted.

"Most likely." Chace grinned, stepping outside the door. He turned and leaned against the frame, looking her over; she stepped behind the door to put an end to that. "Do you have anything planned this weekend? I mean, if you do, that's fine, we've been hanging out a bit anyway... You want to get dinner? Like, Friday or Saturday?" Heather's always been good at hiding her emotions, but at that moment her face read pure shock, mouth open slightly in response. He still wanted to hang out. Which, of course, yeah, that was fine? But for the first time ever, he seemed a little... nervous about it. Chace Crawford was, nervous.

"Oh... well I could ask the roomies and see if they have anything planned? I'm sure they won't though, I–" She started to say, pointing behind her to where her friends had relocated to the living room to watch the cartoons, or eavesdrop, but Chace seemed to be growing antsier.

"Well, I meant just us two, I mean your friends, are great, I love them, but I wanted to do something, just the two of us... I mean, you don't have to say yes, if you don't want." His hand that wasn't on the door frame raised to push his hair back away from his face; god, he had such a beautiful face.

_Holy shit, this is happening, _Heather started to think, her pulse quickening again, she felt like there was a lump in her throat preventing her from speaking, her hands sweating, her mouth gone dry. _This is really happening._ "Are you serious? I mean, no I'd _love_ to, honestly, but... I don't think I could do that? No, no, no! Not go to dinner with you, I mean go out, somewhere, where people could see." His face looked so sad and confused and his lips were sort of pouty in and she was not comfortable with that at this close of a range. He seemed to understand, though.

"No... no, you're right. People would definitely notice us." He sighed, placing one hand on his hip, the other raised, elbow resting on the frame so his hand was hanging over her head. He was so close, and reminded her of a lost puppy and she just wanted to drag him back inside again and tuck him into her sheets. "Well, how about here, then? I mean, you can cook for me for a change."

"What, here?" Her tone was borderline disgust, she may have lived in that apartment, but she was accustomed to the trashy roommates and old food containers and occasionally weird smells that were mostly Dia's fault. It definitely wasn't a four-star restaurant. It wasn't fancy like Chace might be used to. "You sure about that? I mean, I'm fine with the cooking, and all of that stuff," and he certainly wasn't a stranger to her place, "but what about your place?"

"Yeah, I thought about that. I would agree with you, but my place is being watched. No one comes in or out without the whole world knowing." Chace actually sounded annoyed for a moment there, and Heather raised her eyebrows at him. There he went again, saying crazy things only a famous person would say. His life must be insane. She wasn't sure if she wanted a piece of that, but every time she _looked_ at him she was sure she did. "I mean, if it's gonna be a problem, we can forget about it... I don't want to burden you or your friends or anything like that." Chace gestured with his hands, as if it were that touchy of a subject, but she shook her head.

"Oh please, it's fine. They're like kids, all they need is food, and beer, and condoms, and they'll shut up..." Heather said laughing, but she furrowed her eyebrows, realizing that perhaps that wasn't the best metaphor, but Chace laughed all the same.

"Cool. I'll call you, or you can call me if anything changes, but I'll keep Saturday night open? Is that cool?" He pointed at her, grinning widely, all of his teeth practically glittering in the dark hallway.

"Sure." She laughed, nodding. He was so adorable, it amazed her. So they had made plans, again. What did that even mean? What was going to happen? After a few seconds of them staring at each other, Heather cleared her throat, shrugging. "Alright, then?" If she didn't know better, he was acting like he didn't want to leave.

Her eyes drank in his features again, just to remember what he looked like in that moment with his bright bedroom eyes and his smile and his jawline, she wondered if it would be alright to hug him, or kiss him, because she had already thought about doing it multiple times before.

"Alright. Thanks, again, you know, for having me over. Sometimes I really hate sleeping alone." He said quietly, her finding it hard to believe that he had a hard time with that at all. He seemed so vulnerable as he said it, though. She just wanted to hold him.

"Yeah... me too." She watched him, watch her, before giving him a small smile. _Just kiss me already, and get out of my damn doorway._ She really was fond of him, but he had to either come back inside or go, because she hated standing her like this. Just the uncertainty, the tension was making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "I'll see you?"

"That you will." Chace smiled back at her, and what he did next almost made her fall to the floor, he swept in, pressing his lips against her cheek lightly just in front of her ear, as if they were old friends. Her heart hammered against her chest and he grinned at her one last time, because he _knew_ what he was doing, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and started down the staircase as she stood there in a daze. It wasn't until she heard the door in the lobby click shut did she realize she was still standing there, and she closed the door to her apartment, resting her forehead on the wood for a few more minutes until she was certain her legs wouldn't give out beneath her.

"Hey, Heather! Heather! Tell us, on a scale of one-to-ten, how good is he at sex, like, one being a few pumps then he cried after, and ten being almost as good as me, but not that good?" The spot on Heather's cheek wasn't even cold yet where Chace had kissed her but already Dia was making crude jokes again, god she just wanted to wail on him so badly sometimes. "See babe, I told you faking sick was a good idea. Heather got it in because of us." He put one arm around Rachel, who was rolling her eyes at him.

"Yes, babe, it was a _wonderful_ idea." The exasperated expression she wore when she spoke to him was used more often than not.

"I know. All of my ideas are wonderful. Heather, you never answered my question, Heather! Hey!" He called after her as she walked past.

"Shut _up_, Dia!" Heather yelled before going into her bedroom and slamming the door shut behind her. Silence, that was all she wanted at that moment. Was that too much to ask for? Just, silence. That, and Chace.


	8. Friends and Ex-Lovers

5:32PM, October 5

* * *

The days that proceeded Chace's sleepover were agonizingly slow and dragged on; the only thing that kept Heather going was that small peck he had given her on the cheek that afternoon right before he left.

Every time she thought about it all; the breakfast, his laugh, the kiss, it made her short of breath and giddy like a schoolgirl all over again. She really shouldn't like him as much as she did, but she found that she really couldn't help herself. She caught herself thinking about him randomly on more than one occasion, no more dreams at night, but his eyes were present in the ones during the day. The situation worsened when she opened a text from him on the subway home from work one evening:

**Chace**: Hey

It was ridiculous, but her heart began to hammer inside of her chest and she sent one back unusually quick, faster than she's replied to anyone ever before, and when he responded she did a little shuffle on the train.

Me: Oh hey!  
**Chace**: :)  
Me: Lol how are you?  
**Chace**: Good!  
**Chace**: You?  
Me: Mmm good  
**Chace**: Been thinking about saturday evening m'lady  
Me: Ohhh?  
**Chace**: Mhmm hope you're ready  
Me: Ofc I'm ready lol

Heather was actually far from ready. She hadn't any idea as to what she was going to cook for their dinner. She had been busy focusing on other details of the night, like what she was going to wear, how should she do her make-up? She had been working on putting together a playlist. How was she going to get her roommates out of the house? She was on the brink of a panic attack when reality struck her that Saturday evening was less than two days away. Suddenly, the walls of the tunnel underground felt way too close and she was worried that they would collapse every time the train lurched forward.

She didn't want to die before her date that she wasn't prepared for.

* * *

When Heather reached her stop, she flew up the stairs and down the street to her apartment. Once inside, she slammed the door shut and pressed pressed herself firmly against it, slightly hyperventilating.

Rachel and Dia, for once, were not mid-coitus and were simply sitting in the living room; Rachel reading a magazine from back-to-front the way she always did, Dia wearing his waiting uniform, mashing buttons on his Playstation controller and swearing excessively while playing some stupid video game. Both of them looked up curiously, Heather covering her mouth with her hands and breathing rapidly.

"Dude, what happened to you?" Dia wondered out loud before returning his attention back to his game almost immediately. Rachel set her magazine down on the coffee table, stepping over her boyfriend's legs in order to reach the doorway where Heather was immobilized, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her aggressively.

"Hey, hey, what happened?! Did someone try to hurt you?! Tell me, Heather! I swear to God, if anything happened, let me know, I will track down whoever did it and cut open their throat and drink their blood, Heather, just say the wor−"

"No, NO, damn it! I have a _fucking_, date, with Chace _fucking_ Crawford on _fucking_ Saturday, and I don't know what the _fuck_ I'm going to do." Heather replied, snatching her heels off of each foot and throwing them down in angst, Rachel relaxing her grip on her slightly but rolling her eyes.

"Whoa." Was all Dia could say. "Someone's a lee−tle _hormonal_, if you ask me." He muttered before getting smacked in the head with Heather's leather handbag, which was filled with books. And pens. Lots and lots of pens that she took home from the office.

"Fuck you, Dia! Just because you guys have your whole relationship figured out already doesn't mean it's just as easy for the rest of us!" Heather slumped down on the couch next to him, folding her arms and kicking her feet up onto the coffee table, nearly knocking over his Red Bull before Rachel saved it from going over the edge.

"Whoa, take it easy now. Is that what this is all about?" Rachel mused, placing the can of energy drink on the far side of the table before sitting next to her, Dia squealing for half a second as she blocked his view of the television. "Really Heather, we do not 'have all of our relationship figured out.' It's a learning experience, all of it. Also, it was really rocky in the beginning, don't you remember? I hated Dia. I thought he was a complete idiot." Rachel grabbed Heather's hands with both of her own, but it couldn't wipe the scowl from her face, Dia nodding aggressively.

"Then I introduced her to my gigantic thunderstick and everything changed from there." He mused, Heather and Rachel both rolling their eyes in turn. "No? Okay, then." He resumed his button-mashing and Rachel looked Heather straight in the eye.

"I don't know what you're worried about. Everything will be fine. Do you like him?" She asked, Heather sinking further into the couch as she nodded quickly. "Then I don't see what the problem is. Tomorrow we should go grocery shopping because uh, there is like, NO food in there. None. But we'll get more. Do you know what you're gonna cook?"

Heather gazed thoughtfully at the flashing tv for a few seconds, chewing the inside of her cheek before answering, "Well, he's from Texas. So maybe he'd like some Southern-style cooking?" She entertained, Rachel nodding encouragingly. "Like, what's Southern? Ugh. Fried chicken? I'm sure he'll like that, everyone eats chicken, right?" Heather wondered aloud, Dia shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe some mashed potatoes, a little gravy…"

"Awesome! That's a great idea sweetie, see? You can totally do this! I'll even help you, I can make a side before we leave." Rachel fully understood that she and Dia would not be present that evening, even if all Dia wanted to do was sit at home with his girlfriend, instead of going _out_ with her.

"No. I want to do everything myself. I'll figure it out. You're right." Heather affirmed, Rachel nodding, beaming like a proud mother.

"Any idea as to what you'll be wearing?" She prompted, entwining her fingers with her friend's. When she shrugged, she simply smiled and added, "You'll do fine. Cutie pie." She giggled, pinching Heather's nose before her hand got slapped away.

"I seriously doubt that, Ray. You forget who you're talking to." Heather muttered under her breath, yet she swallowed her grief all the same and mellowed out, watching Dia repeatedly try and jump the same cliff over and over in his game until his swearing became so loud and intense, Rachel demanded he take a thirty-minute break from it. Heather had finally come to the realization that he shouldn't even _be_ there. "Can I ask why you're home so early?" She demanded to know of Dia as he crushed his empty Red Bull can with his hands.

"Oh, yeah… so, funny story…" He began, coaxing a loud sigh and an eyeroll from his girlfriend, Heather leaning forward in interest. "I finally realized that everyone there really sucks." He said, deadpan. "You could seriously be your nicest, and work your ass off, and people would still stiff you on your tip. And our boss was," Heather's stomach dropped at the past-tense usage going on there, "a total asshat, and _you_ weren't there to do most of the work no one else does, so then it _really_ started to suck… what I'm trying to say here is that I got fed up and walked out during the five o'clock rush and I don't think anyone's really noticed?" Heather's jaw dropped open as Rachel morosely shook her head. "I mean, I haven't received any angry texts or phone calls yet? I could still be on the clock for all I know. Oh well, I'm not going back. Oh, _and_ I hate that place."

"But Dia," Heather began, feeling panicky. If he hurried, he could make it back to work and pass his poor behavior off as bad gas. She couldn't help but imagine all of the customers still waiting to order, or receive their food. "You won't have a job anymore if you do this… what are you going to do? How are we going to pay rent? You know me and Ray don't make enough money to afford this place on our own." Heather began, always the more rational thinker of the house, Dia's blasé attitude towards the whole situation irritating her only further. She worked at that job for little over two years and lost it in one night. Dia worked there for thirteen months and just walked out like it was nothing.

"Ray and _I_." Rachel corrected, back to perusing her magazine, tearing out articles and pictures as she went along and laying them out on the coffee table. Heather looked from her to Dia pointedly, as if she were agreeing, but she was only correcting her grammar, which she hated.

Dia only shrugged, pausing his game and putting his arms around both girls, drawing them in close. "No need to worry, I got this, ladies. For now, we have to worry about two things; Heather getting laid by Crawford, and Ray getting laid by _me_."

This was only answered by multiple punches to Dia's face and gut, from both of them.

* * *

6:13PM, October 6

* * *

Heather settled down considerably since the night before, but during their "family's" visit to the grocery store, she proceeded to have several more, albeit evenly spaced-out panic attacks. Once over what brand of chicken to get. Dia fixed this by simply looking over the selection for a few seconds before reaching into the freezer and pulling out a package at seemingly random. "Perdue. Less pathogens than the other brands." Was all he said, Heather wringing her hands, Rachel rubbing her temples. It was going to be a very long day, for everyone.

* * *

Not too much later they returned home and all of the groceries were put away, Rachel and Heather going back out that evening to get their nails done, as sort of a treat to themselves. They left Dia at home to cook dinner for that evening. Now that he was jobless he was going to hone his homemaking skills while he could, although he promised Heather that he was also going to start looking for a new job. It wasn't until their train ride back home did she have another freak out. It wasn't hard for her to have them, it merely depended upon the situation.

"I hate the subway, Ray." Heather reminded her friend. They were standing pressed together in the stinky car surrounded by a mass of people, someone's elbow sticking into her side, but she couldn't move without knocking Rachel over. "Couldn't we just have taken a cab? I _hate_ the subway." She repeated, louder this time, throwing her elbow out towards the person pressing theirs against her before receiving an ugly look from the stranger.

"I know, I'm sorry. The train is faster. At least your nails look pretty." Rachel chirped, Heather looking down at the French manicure she paid way too much for.

"I think they're too long. I should have gotten them shorter. Fuck, they look stupid, too. This is stupid. Why did I get my _nails_ done?" She wondered out loud, Rachel shaking her head.

"It was your idea." She sighed with a shake of her head, texting away on her phone using one hand that was wrapped around Heather's side. "They look fine. Stop it." Rachel knew where this was going, but Heather rambled on anyway.

"I can't believe I just spent thirty bucks on these ugly as fuck nails, they look ridiculous, I mean, look at them, they're not me, they're fake, he's going to see my fake-ass nails and know I did it to look cute, and he's going to laugh at me, I already know it, so maybe I should just call off tomorrow, I don't think I'm ready for this, God, I fucking _hate_ trains, it's hot in here, and I can't breathe, and this guy keeps touching me," Heather spoke in a fast, low voice, and Rachel merely grabbed her by the coat when they reached their stop and dragged her out to street level, which had that brisk bite to it that signaled the season's change.

"Look, bro," Rachel began, a term she adopted from her boyfriend's complex vocabulary, "I'm going to be real right now. I've known you for over half of my life and I've known all of your boyfriends you've had since high school. You always aim low, sorry to say it, but you do." Rachel held up her hand to her friend, who was really tempted to hiss at her just then, or just, scratch out her eyes a little.

"Fuck you, I do not 'aim low.'" Heather muttered, attempting to speed up and angry-walk away from her friend, but the girl was good at keeping pace. She only answered with a short tisk.

"Oh, really? Need I remind you of Brendt, how long did that last again, five days? He made you call him, every night. Do you remember that? 'Cause I sure as fuck do. 'Cause you wouldn't stop bitching about it." Rachel stammered, Heather shaking her head. She did not want to have this conversation. She whipped out her keys, they were only a block away from their apartment and she planned on locking Rachel out. "Oh, and what about Howard? That guy was fucking _crazy_. You still don't believe me?" She wondered, following her into the apartment and up the staircase, yelling after her. "Patrick? I'm pretty sure he was secretly gay. Stefan? Between the two of us, he had really bad skin. And don't get me started on that smug little douche that works in the mailroom at the paper−"

"What's your point?!" Heather shouted back at her over her shoulder.

"My point? Fucking _hell_, Heather, I don't even think he's _eighteen_ yet." Heather paused long enough to give her a long, meaningful glare before unlocking their door and stepping inside, kicking her shoes off so they each made a loud _crack_ against the wall. Dia turned his head sharply at the noise, Rachel slamming the door behind her before she threw her coat on the ground. "My point _is_, Heather, is that you aim low because you're afraid of rejection. Take a chance for once in your life, this guy is a serious hottie, and he's into you!" She followed Heather all the way into her room, dinner sitting on the stove, the smell of food making Heather hungry but her friend bitching at her was making her lose her appetite simultaneously. "Hate me all you want, but Chace _is_ coming here tomorrow, and you are going to have _fun_ with him, in whatever sense you like!"

And with that, Rachel stormed out of her room and into the kitchen to serve herself some chicken alfredo.

* * *

Heather merely cried in the bathtub for about half an hour before joining her and Dia on the couch to rewatch Lord of the Rings. Rachel was right, and she was being stupid. She had to take a chance and put herself out there. She already loved Chace as a person, even if she barely knew him at all, the _real_ him.

The only real scary part was, would he love her back? She didn't want to accept that failure when it came, and she knew it eventually _would_ come, so she had been trying to save herself of the pain and stop it all before it started, whatever _it_ was.

She watched Dia, who mouthed all of the words to the movie, and Rachel, who fell asleep with her head in his lap and she couldn't help but smile. They gave her hell about 99% of the time, but they meant well. In just a few hours they would help clean, and then evacuate the apartment so she could have a beautiful television celebrity over for dinner, all for her. She frowned, remembering that Dia was without a job and Rachel knew more things about her than she knew about herself, before watching the rest of the movie and turning in for bed.

Her dreams that night were filled with the same usual nonsense, not the stuff she wanted to dream about, or spent all day thinking about, i.e., a naked Chace standing dripping wet in her bedroom, towel draped loosely around his waist as if he _wanted_ it to fall off. She did dream a bit about slugging Blake Lively in her stupid face rather than striking her in the eye with the cork from a bottle of champagne. But no Chace.

That night was hard for her.


	9. Full of Surprises

8:23AM, October 7

* * *

Heather was greeted by Rachel practically breathing in her face the morning Chace was due over, which she didn't mind so much except for the fact that the girl doesn't know how to knock, or what personal space is. Also, it was her day off and she was intending to sleep in, but those hopes were dashed as soon as she opened her eyes.

"Doyouwannagogetsomebreakfastwithme?" Rachel inquired, Heather merely reaching out and pushing her away by the face while turning away from her. "Come on, I'm hungry, and I want bagels!"

After a few more minutes of listening to Rachel's incessant whining (Heather had been meaning to get a working lock for her bedroom door, but hadn't gotten around to it, but now she was _surely_ going to pick one up from the nearest hardware store ASAP), Heather rolled out of bed and into the shower, then changed into a sweatshirt from her college and gray leggings, pulling her hair high into a ponytail in order for this inane trip. After tying up her trainers and pulling on her peacoat, she followed Rachel out of the door and to the nearest bakery to get her damned specialty bagels and coffee. It was a very quiet walk; the crisp morning air filling her lungs, bright sunlight reflecting off the tops of the tall glass structures downtown. It was oddly relaxing. Heather wished she was walking with Chace instead of her grump of a best friend, who insisted that they hold hands the entire way there. She really didn't mind so much, but it was hard to pretend it was him when her friend had such soft hands.

* * *

Back at home Rachel awoke Dia, handing him his coffee−black, with plenty of sugar. Heather wondered how Chace took his coffee and shook her head− she was thinking far too much about the boy−and began cleaning in an attempt to somewhat get her mind off of him. Rachel pitched in by loading the dishwasher, hand-scrubbing the pots and pans, Dia eventually getting up from the couch and helping also, cleaning out the living room and even vacuuming the carpet. Heather had never seen either of them do so much work before, and she felt an overwhelming rush of affection for both of them before remembering they were terrible people who wanted to achieve world domination.

"Thanks a lot, guys. I mean it, really." Heather said as she and Rachel placed a tablecloth over the table in an attempt to hide the coffee stains and rings. "I'll pay you guys back somehow, I promise." Rachel merely shook her head as if this weren't an option, and Dia didn't hear her, he was too busy "cleaning out the fridge."

"Don't worry about it, Heddy. This place is going to look beautiful. Then we can work on _that_." Rachel said, gesturing to Heather's attire as if it were something that was devastatingly in need of changing. Heather made a face.

"Rachel, you're being bitchy and I have to tell you that it's not a good fashion for you. I get the hint, and I will change, later. Don't wanna get my clothes dirty." Heather muttered, going into her bedroom to clean out her rat's cage. Romeo hitched a ride on her shoulder for a short while as she did laundry. Seven o'clock was a long time away.

* * *

It turned out that Heather had more than enough time to blowdry her hair, which was still wet from earlier that morning, do her no-makeup makeup, and lay out several outfits for Rachel to pick from. The food wouldn't take much prepping, just a lot of care because Heather had never fried chicken before, and it was wracking her nerves but she merely waited to get started as Rachel stood in her room, looking at the array of clothes on Heather's bed.

"Is this all you have, seriously?" Rachel asked, making a face. What Heather had just then was the need to give her a good kick in the ass. "I'm bored looking at these, darling. BORED. I don't think Chace is going to want to hop into bed with you if he sees you in this… penguin… t-shirt? _Fuck_ me. What kind of underwear are you wearing? Let me see." Rachel demanded, grabbing Heather's sweater and lifting it to reveal a very basic white bra.

"HEY!" Was all Heather could manage before pulling her sweater down, slapping away Rachel's hands. "Lay off, alright?! What do you think I should do, then?" She demanded to know, since Rachel was an expert on all things sex, or a sexpert, if you will.

Rachel merely disappeared into her closet for a few seconds, loudly rummaging through her things in a wild search to find her sexy clothes. "Alright, picture this: Chace walks in. You're trying to rush in order to put dinner on the table, but you didn't have time to change. You're wearing nothing but your pajamas, and underneath, barely anything. Don't you own any underwear that match? For fuck's sake!"

"_Bathing suits_ should match, Ray, and I have _some_." Heather said, now sitting on her bed, playing with Romeo. Rachel exited the closet holding, not many clothes, throwing herself against the closet door.

"So, you're going to be all, 'Oh, is it seven already? Shoot! I'm a mess!' You'll go to change but he'll insist that you wear this because it's fucking hot. That'll get his blood pumping. Show a little skin, but just enough to have him wanting to see more. Wipe a little flour in your hair and on your neck and his eyes will be drawn there. Let your bra strap fall, but don't fix it. It'll drive him mad."

Heather looked up at Rachel as she stood over her smiling devilishly as she dumped the clothes into her lap. "Christ, Ray, is this what you did to seduce Dia?" She wondered, in awe at how good she was at planning these things.

Rachel merely grinned at her. "No, my friend, that was _far_ less work. But do what I say and he will be _putty_ in your hands. He'll want to touch you and have you cooking for him every day and he won't be able to stop thinking about you and it'll be _amazing_, I promise."

Heather shifted uncomfortably at the thought, at all of it. Her head was spinning. The fact that she would be in that position was far too overwhelming to think about. She merely had to trust her friend's advice. It's worked for her so far. "What movie are you guys going to see?" Heather changed topics suddenly, feeling a bit weak in the knees as she examined the clothes Rachel brought her. Black lace underwear with a floral pattern and a mauve silk and black lace slip she acquired from Victoria's Secret that she forgot she even _owned_. She quite possibly wore it only once, on a not-so-special occasion, if only to say she wore it at least once.

Rachel shrugged, checked her watch, and Heather immediately felt bad for asking them to leave the apartment. When her friend turned to leave, she called after her, Romeo lost in the sea of clothes on her bed. "Wait! Maybe you guys don't have to leave?" But Rachel shook her head.

"Nah, we'll give you guys some space. Dia doesn't really know when to keep his mouth shut. Besides, I need to get out once in awhile. I never thought I would say this, but I can't handle another _Lord of the Rings_ marathon." She gave her friend a wink before departing, and Heather smiled, her heart beating aggressively in her chest. She knew this was something she would have to do alone. She hasn't been on a real date in a long time, and this was one she couldn't afford to mess up.

"Thanks, Ray. Love you." Was all Heather could manage without tearing up, Rachel shutting the door behind her, giving her a moment's peace. Her clock told her that Chace would be arriving in approximately 1.5 hours and she needed to get started on dinner, stat.

* * *

When seven o'clock drew near, Rachel and Dia had already wished her luck and left, increasing her anxieties tenfold. She tried playing music loud enough to drown out her horrid thought processes. She hadn't thought at all about preparing a dessert, and cursed herself over and over for not doing so as she bent down, looking into her fridge, until that was, she heard a voice behind her.

"Hey!"

Heather couldn't recall a time where she had nearly screamed quite so loud, hitting her head on the top of her fridge and spinning quickly on the spot to see Chace standing in the doorway of her kitchen. He was clutching a bottle of wine, looking a fine mix of irritatingly adorable in a white t-shirt with a blue suit jacket thrown over it and jeans, and a little afraid. He immediately placed the bottle of expensive-as-fuck looking wine on the counter, rushing forward to make sure she was okay.

"Holy, fucking, _shit_, Chace. _How_ did you get in here?" She demanded to know, covering her face with both hands, eyes closed tight as waves of pain ran through her jaw. So classy. So very classy. Her mind was spinning and she was afraid to let go of it as if all of its contents were going to spill out onto the kitchen tile. Chace was standing over her, examining the crown of her head with a stern look in his eye that also, made her want to fall over.

"I ran into Dia and Rachel downstairs… I was just about to call, but they let me in, instead… was that bad?" He asked, prying her hands away from the most tender spot in order to look at it.

"No… not at all." Heather said in a careful, measured voice. She was going to yell at her roommates so hard for that move later. She quickly moved away from Chace towards the dock where her iPod was blaring, and she lowered the music a few decibels before turning to look at him, who was looking at her. "It's fine, really. I'm fine. What did you bring?" She said in a lighter tone, forcing a smile even though her head felt ready to split open.

Chace followed her gaze to the bottle of wine on the counter. "That? Oh, it's just… wine. A little thanks for the dinner. I'm not… trying to get you drunk, I swear… this looks bad, doesn't it?" Chace made a face that made Heather want to kiss away the little crinkles around his eyes until she shook her head.

"Not at all. Thank you, Chace, that was sweet of you. Let's open it now, shall we?" She grabbed the bottle and tried to grab two wine glasses from the highest cabinet in the kitchen, but she was too short. They were rarely used and therefore kept out of reach in case someone decided to go on a glass-breaking rampage one drunken evening... which Heather has totally never done before to the encouragement of her two best friends.

She pressed herself against the counter and tried mighty hard to get them, but couldn't without a chair. Finally after a few seconds of watching her struggle, stupid, _Chace_, with his stupid face merely swept forward and snatched two glasses down from the shelf without breaking a sweat. "Here you go." He said in a low murmur, Heather trying to keep herself from looking at him as she took the glasses, because he was looking, at her. And it was in that moment she was painfully aware of what she was wearing, and he seemed to have taken notice as well.

"Thanks." She got out, exhaling deeply before looking up at him. She wished she hadn't. His eyes were such a beautiful shade a blue. A sky she could stare into forever, given the chance. "Couch?" She suggested, Chace smiling and following her over to the sofa, watching as she set the glasses down on the coffee table. She wished he would stop with the staring already. "Let me go get the corkscrew." She had been opening bottles of wine for two years with little to no problem, but now her streak was ruined. Her hands always shook whenever she so much as picked a bottle of wine up.

In the kitchen, she checked on her food, checked her watch to see how many more minutes it would take for the chicken to be done. Her mashed potatoes were done, gravy boiling in a small pot in front of the chicken. She must have been taking too long, because soon before long, Chace appeared in the doorway, jacket removed as he ran his hand through his hair. She noticed this movement, wondered if it was done intentionally, but it was definitely effective as she closed the lid on one of the pots she was looking into, perhaps a little too hard.

"Something smells good." He mentioned casually, eyes flickering to her face. She forced a smile. Not because she was unhappy but because she was still in awe of this presence before her.

"Thanks, I've been working on it all day." She let out a nervous laugh, stepping in front of his view of the food. It wasn't fair to cheat. "I've never really done anything like this, I guess, but−" Heather cut herself off when Chace began to shake his head, brow creased as he stepped closer to her.

"Nah, I don't mean the food. That smells amazing, actually. I haven't eaten a decent meal in oh, months?" He was practically casting a shadow over her as he leaned towards her, and she leaned as far back as she could without knocking the food off the stovetop−or burning herself. She was about to ask what he was doing, but he merely sniffed her neck before straightening up again. "What is that?" He asked, her eyelids fluttering closed before she reopened them again.

"It's like this, jasmine and lavender perfume I always get..." She said quietly, Chace resting his elbow on the nearest counter, gazing at her thoughtfully as if she were a puzzlebox or something. "You know, I just can't find that stupid, corkscrew." She muttered, opening and slamming drawers shut in search of the elusive corkscrew. She could feel herself turning red, cheeks burning. Why was this her life right now?

"Well, it works for you." Was all Chace could say, and she realized that she should have maybe worn more clothes to this occasion. Maybe then he would be forced to stop looking at her legs.

"Thanks. I should−um−really go change. I didn't know you would be getting here so early." She said, wiping her hands on the front of her slip, but Chace was blocking her exit of the kitchen. "Excuse me." She said, looking up at him once she realized he wasn't moving.

"Oh, well... I think you look fine. You don't have to change on account of me." He was saying that, but he didn't understand that they way his eyes were moving up and down her body was making her antsy. Perhaps this was the power Rachel was going on about. "Heather?" Chace asked after a few moments of silence.

"Hm?" Was all she could manage, eyebrows raised.

"The corkscrew is sitting on the counter, next to your iPod."

Of course. Of course, it _fucking_ was. Heather smiled sweetly and snatched it up quickly, pushing past him in order to get back to the sofa. She tucked her legs under her, opening the cork quickly while he wasn't watching her and pouring them big, beautiful glasses of white wine. Chace plopped down next to her and she tried not to stare too much at his arms as she handed him his glass. "Mmn, I can't wait to try this. Thanks again, for bringing it." Heather sighed, breathing in the smell of liquor before Chace touched his glass to hers.

"No problem, really." They each took their first sip and Heather nearly cried, it was beautiful, all of it. The apartment was quiet, and clean, and the smell of food filled the air. The wine was probably the best she's ever tasted, and Chace Crawford sat next to her on her couch that Dia vacuumed all of the food crumbs out of before he left.

"Oh, God." Heather gasped, before taking another sip. "That is good. That is really, really good." She raised an eyebrow at him mid-gulp, wondering how much he paid for this bottle and why.

"It is, but keep drinking it like that and you'll be out before the food is ready." Chace laughed deeply at her, Heather giggling slightly, warmth spreading throughout her very core. "Speaking of which, what did you make?" He leaned in towards her, Heather shaking her head.

"Nope, I'm not telling. It'll ruin the surprise." She giggled into her glass, turning away from him slightly. "You can't make me tell." She insisted, it was only when he gave her his best puppy dog eyes did she whine out loud. "Nope. Stop. That doesn't work on me." She said in between laughs, turning her head away from him. It worked really well, actually. She gulped down more wine, averting her eyes but when she did look back at him, her resolve crumbled. He was giving her that, stupid look. Like he was trying to beam messages into her head but she couldn't understand what the fuck he was saying. It made her turn a slight shade of pink, but that also could just be from the wine. "Okay, so, how about, we watch some tv or something?" She wondered, leaning over the coffee table and reaching for the remote, but Chace was just as quick as she was and grabbed it first. "Chace, what the hell." She stated as he stuffed the remote under a pillow on the opposite side of the couch.

"No. No tv." He insisted, grinning stupidly as he shook his head. Heather couldn't stop smiling. Why was everything about him so stupid? "No distractions. I just want to talk." He said, turning towards her on the couch, chin in hand as he crossed one leg over the other the way men did, pants leg raised slightly around the ankle, she couldn't help but notice every little detail about him. His socks were gray, and looked rather expensive. He had a small cut on his chin, as if he had been shaving hastily and his hair was slicked back and looked like it had been obsessed over a little too much. She didn't much care for it, it looked over-styled. But he was still beautiful, to her.

After a moment's silence she examined him over the edge of her glass, taking another tiny sip before asking, "Talk about what?" Voice low. She was almost certain she knew the answer but she'd rather hear it out loud. This was exactly what she was afraid of happening.

He took a long draught from his glass before answering, "About you." More silence followed this as he smiled sweetly, and she glared at him, trying to hide her smirk as she picked up the bottle of wine and refilled her glass, then his. "Thanks." He added, making far more eye contact with her than should be allowed.

"You do realize, that you are asking to be let into this whole other _crazy_ world and once you open that door, you can't get it shut? I'm really bad at talking about myself." Running on nothing but wine, and the poor excuse for a breakfast she had that morning−a bad combination−Heather was feeling light-headed soon enough. Her roommates called her a lightweight, and she tried to prove them wrong every time and ended up getting in way over her head. Chace kept looking at her innocently, in a not-so-innocent way and she continued to talk. "What do you want to know? Let's see, I'll make it easy for you... I'm too nice for my own good sometimes, I always want to help... I'm bad at getting what I want." She could hear the words pouring out of her mouth, but couldn't dam the flow any more than she could will herself to stop being tipsy. She was going to embarrass herself, but perhaps that was for the best. She twirled her red locks around her fingers as she spoke.

"I can be an asshole sometimes and then feel _really_ bad about it after. I'm a fixer, although I'm pretty bad at that, too." She said thoughtfully, as if she weren't talking about herself. "My longest relationship was four months, if you count emails or whatever…" She trailed off, sipping more of her wine, Chace smiling at her from behind his hand. "What? Don't give me that look." But he didn't stop.

"Four months? You mean four years." Chace corrected, Heather laughing loudly at him. "You can't be serious… four months? What happened?" He asked in disbelief, Heather shrugging, wearing a smug look as if it were a great personal achievement to be desired.

"Because I bore people." She put plainly, not caring anymore. She was tired of misleading Chace into thinking she was a perfect person. If he didn't like her anymore after tonight because she got wasted and blabbed all of her deepest, darkest secrets to him, let it be so.

"Really?" Chace asked after some time, eyeing her over his glass. "You don't bore me." He stated, placing his glass down, hard, on the coffee table. This sort of threw her off balance a bit, and if she weren't sitting, she would have to sit. She contemplated lying down instead. "So what was wrong with him?" He asked, making her head spin. On the outside, she had to remain calm and collected. On the inside, there was a war going on.

"What makes you think that I broke up with him?" She laughed nervously, holding the stem of her glass tightly so he couldn't tell her hands were shaking. His gaze had intensified tenfold since twelve seconds before, and she couldn't stop focusing on his arms, instead, which wasn't helping the situation any better.

"Because." Was all he said, as if this were the end of the conversation. But she waited for him to explain. Then again, when you looked like he did, did you really have to explain yourself? "Well he'd have to be crazy, wouldn't he?" He asked, brow creased again, lips pouted and it hurt because it was so innocent, so genuine a question that it made her flush. "Tell me what he did so I don't do the same thing."

He was laughing, and she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was so far done with this man, and his ridiculousness, and his spewing nonsense. She did everything she could to keep from blustering out words at him. "He−," she began, in too high of a pitch, "we met at a high school party, and we very drunkenly got to third base before I decided I didn't want to sleep with him just then. So after that we became exclusive, and he told me I was 'the one.' Psh. Kids." She rolled her eyes as she muttered into her glass, but she refused to be bitter about it. It was a long time ago, and Chace Crawford was sitting on her couch gazing at her with his gorgeous blue eyes expectantly, hanging on her every word, the sweet angel.

"Then he slept with my best friend." She said after a long time, eventually looking at Chace, drinking in his shocked expression.

"Holy shit. Ray?" He wondered, Heather giving a loud holler.

"God, no. This was another girl. Ray kicked her teeth in for me, though. I think that's what really solidified our friendship. Oh, yes." She nodded, Chace still staring at her in disbelief. "I've got more stories. They only get better from there." She added, lifting her glass into the air, Chace smiling sideways, laughing silently. She laughed too, before finally asking, "What? What's so funny?" Then she grew impatient, worrying her story had broken him. She grabbed his arm with her free hand, shaking lightly. "Chace, tell me!" She pleaded, and his laughter died down and there he was, giving her that look again.

"Well, you want to know what I think about that whole situation?" He asked, and she tilted her head automatically in question. "That guy? Was a fucking idiot." Was all he said, and Heather bit her lip immediately. She was trying really hard, really, really hard to fight off the tears forming in her eyes, but they burned behind her eyelids and fought their way out, tumbling fast across her cheeks and down her chin. "Heather?" He asked, immediately sensing that he had said something wrong. She simply turned away from him, placing her glass on the coffee table, hand held out so he couldn't see her cry. She wouldn't cry, not here. Not now. She was going to ruin her make-up. This night was supposed to be perfect.

And once again, a bottle of alcohol was her downfall.

She stopped only when Chace moved closer on the couch towards her, and she turned her head feeling the weight shift. He grabbed her extended hand and was now pulling her in against him, free arm extending to wrap around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, I really am." He said in a low voice, and as much as she wanted to pull away from him, she couldn't bring herself to do so. He was very warm, his body firm underneath his T-shirt.

She knew she was always a bit crazy, but when a laugh bubbled from within her, she was afraid that she had _really_ lost it. "You don't even know what you're apologizing for, you moron." She grabbed his shirt by the collar, drawing him in closer, eyes drinking in his features behind tears. His perfect skin, his gorgeous, full lips, bright blue eyes, the stubble growing on his chin… but his hair, was slicked back, and she _hated_ it slicked back. "Stop _looking_ at me like that... and fix your goddamned hair! It's bugging me." She ran her hands through it a couple times, ruffling it lightly so it fell out of its meticulously quaffed and combed style that probably took a lot of time and effort. This action was followed by more silence−there seemed to be a lot of it that evening. She wondered if she had finally succeeded in pissing him off; he remained silent for some time, eyes flickering between each of hers. Her breath caught in her throat as she finally realized suddenly how close he truly was.

He let his hand drop down to her outside thigh, grasping it tightly and pulling her towards him gently until her body was pressed against his. This pulled an involuntary gasp from Heather, and he inhaled her breath as she exhaled. She couldn't stand how closely knit together they were, his chest rising and falling against hers, heat radiating off of his skin. She wondered what the hell happened in those last few moments. She was telling a sad story and now he was looking at her with those eyes like he was going to eat her. She had to learn how to master that look. "Heather." He said, and she would have tried to squirm her way out of his grip if she didn't think that would worsen the situation. He looked over her face, thumb catching a tear still hanging on her chin and wiping it away slowly, Heather feeling sick to her stomach with anticipation of what was going to happen next. She let her eyes close, lips parted slightly, heart slamming against her ribcage.

"Heather!" He said suddenly, voice suddenly urgent and she was afraid that she was dreaming again. Her eyes flew open and she followed his gaze to the black smoke ebbing from the stovetop, and she screamed. They sprung apart, and she jumped up onto the couch, waving her arms in the air.

"What do we do, what do we do, what do we DO?! MY FOOD, CHACE!" She shouted, Chace going into the kitchen, and like a normal person; he turned the stove off. Heather, like a freak of nature; grabbed his cellular from the kitchen table and dialed 911. Chace hadn't noticed this, he merely opened the lid to the pot of burning chicken and aired it out, but this only set off the fire alarm. "Argh! What! WHAT!" Heather yelled at the fire alarm, tossing Chace's phone at it, successfully breaking both.

Chace looked in her direction, puzzled by how hysterical she was being. "Heather!" He scolded her, but she was just glad that the alarm was no longer going off, but it was sparking dangerously, his phone lying in a heap of buttons on the floor below it. She scowled and walked over to the stove to peer down at the burnt, blackened chicken that was once meant to be their dinner. She covered her face with her hands, Chace placing a hand on her shoulder and rubbing her arm sympathetically.

It didn't take long for the fire department to show up.

Heather and Chace told them the whole story, of how they lost track of time and that the food burned up and they had been drinking and the kindly fireman getting their story told them that it was a serious offense to dial 911 in a non-emergency and they understood completely and they would never let it happen again and then they left, leaving Heather standing outside in her slippers and coat, legs bare, and Chace fully dressed, hands in his pockets.

Neither of them said anything for a long time as they reentered the apartment, heads hung low, Heather locating her phone and ordering a large enough pizza and a liter of Coke just for the two of them. Afterwards she retrieved Chace's phone, which was now smashed into bits and pieces, and turned to stand in front of him. "I'm sorry... I ruined dinner." She got out, lip quivering as she struggled to find words to express just how truly sorry she was. She turned the piece of now−well, junk−over in her hands and figured, how the hell was she going to afford to replace something that expensive? How she even managed to attain, and then throw, this man's phone was a mystery to her.

Chace made a face, giving a small shrug along with it. "If it makes you feel any better," he touched a hand to her chin, lifting it slightly, "I bet it was the best dinner I almost had." He grinned, and she smiled in despite of herself, pouting only slightly as she held out his phone.

"I'm also _really_ sorry that I broke your phone. I'll buy you a new one, I promise." She said, and Chace took it, giving it one look and walking over to the trashcan located in the kitchen, and dropping it in. "Chace!" Heather began to protest, but he only came back shaking his head.

"Don't worry about it, it was insured. I can get another one tomorrow." He laughed upon seeing the disbelief on her face. "Shit happens." He said with a shrug, and his carefree attitude was both simultaneously sexy and incredibly frustrating, and she really wanted to either hit him, or kiss him. Instead she suggested they watch some television, no longer trying to impress him. This would probably be their last date either way. She remained silent, sinking into the couch as she channel surfed for a few seconds before settling on The Office.

"Yes! I _love_ this show." Chace casually threw himself down on the couch, instantly absorbed in the program as Heather drew her legs onto the couch, tucking her hands between her knees as he stretched his arms out behind them.

They were touching, and a little buzzing noise at the back of her brain like that of a fluorescent light was alerting her to where; at the shoulder, and her knees rested against his right one. Her nerves were on edge. It was almost like they were a couple, except they hadn't gone to third base, or any of the bases, and Heather desperately wanted to, do more than just sit on the couch with him, but when it came to what exactly they could do, she wasn't exactly so sure. This was only technically their first and a half date, not that she was keeping track. The first half was them sitting in Chace's car in the McDonald's parking lot. Their dinner with her friends was not a date, by her standards, nor was playing drunk Monopoly with them a date, either. He had slept over, in her bed, twice, now, and they had touched plenty. He had called her "cute" multiple times, kissed her on the cheek, twice, showered in her bathroom. She didn't want to be the kind of girl to ask what the hell was going on between them, because just when she thought he was gone for good, he kept coming back to bug her. Just as charming, and stupid, as ever.

She looked up at him, feeling a mixed swirl of emotions inside of the pit of her stomach as she thought about all of this. She eventually let it go and settled for just watching her favorite sitcom with him, instead. Just having him there with her, just then, would have to be good enough.

* * *

The pizza arrived shortly thereafter, and by that time Heather was feeling ravenous and pulled a slice out of the box and began chomping down on it before it even got to the table. The cheese was obscenely hot and burned the roof of her mouth, but she didn't care. It was bittersweet how delicious it was. Her dinner was ruined, and she was starving, but damn it all if it wasn't good pizza. Chace slid from the couch onto the floor and began to pull apart a piece for himself, seemingly trying to contain a small grin.

"Hey, now that's a pretty nice pie." He noted after taking a bite, Heather stuffing the rest of hers into her mouth. She watched as he folded the slice over, as many New Yorkers did and bit into it, steam rising off of it, a chunk of sauce sticking to the corner of his mouth. She tore her eyes away and retreated to the kitchen to get glasses for their Coca-Cola. She brought him back a few napkins, as well.

Grabbing another slice, she sighed as she took a bite. "That's really good, actually," she muttered, sitting down right next to him, elbows rested on knees as she stared deeply into her pizza.

Chace wiped his mouth with a napkin, knocking his knee into hers lightly. "If you don't mind me asking, what _were_ you planning on making earlier?" He asked her.

She made a face, giving a tiny roll of her eyes. "It's really not important." She said shortly, shoving the rest of the pizza into her mouth before washing it down with soda. It was too embarrassing to talk about the food, so instead Heather turned her attention back to the television, hoping he would drop the subject.

"Oh, come on. It's not the end of the world." Chace nudged her again, this time in the arm with his elbow, but she wouldn't stop scowling, which made him sigh deeply. After polishing off his first slice, Heather working her way through her third, he cleared his throat, adding, "Well, you know. Next time we'll set a timer. Do you own one of those?" He smiled, but Heather just stared at him in disbelief, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry again.

Next time. Next. Time. Those words just rang over and over in her head, and Chace merely leaned in, nudging her again.

"Hello? Heather?" He wondered, but she took a minute or two to mull over what he just said. Next time, next time, next time next time next time. What could he mean by that? Did this mean that he was totally still willing to date her, even after she revealed that she was a lightweight in despite of her well-known reputation as a third generation Irish-American, aired out all of her dirty laundry in front of him, _and_ smashed his phone to pieces? It wasn't the worst date she's been on, not nearly close. It was probably the best, and after all, she had ruled out their previous not-dates as dates.

She mulled this over as she looked at him, eyes taking in features once again as she tried to remember what Rachel had said to her the day before. It seemed like so long ago. Something about, not wasting her opportunity and taking a chance on this man while he was still around. It seemed like a good idea in theory, but when someone like _her_, was left alone with someone as gorgeous and in shape as _him_, it just didn't play out the way she wished it would. But he still wanted to see her, so she wouldn't dare mess that up. She could practically hear Dia and Rachel screaming in anger at her in the back of her mind.

"Sorry." She finally said, forcing a smile. "I really made a mess of things tonight, didn't I?" She asked, her appetite ebbing away and replaced by a much deeper hunger, a need to touch him. To feel his skin underneath his stupidly expensive cotton T-shirt like she did when he slept overnight.

She watched him as he set his pizza down, turning his full body towards her, one leg on the couch, head resting on his fist. She spent much of her time staring and gaping at him, but only when did she realize that he was doing the same thing did she blush insanely. Her eyes flickered to the throw on the back of the couch and she fought the mad desire to wrap it around herself as his eyes traveled over her exposed body. She shouldn't have dressed this way. This was a Rachel move, not a Heather move. She was not in her element.

Just when she couldn't take the silence anymore and she felt like she was going to scream if he didn't answer her soon, she could hear footsteps and voices at the base of the staircase outside of the apartment, and she glanced at her watch. "Shit, when did it get so late?" She muttered. Her roommates had given her plenty of time, but it still felt like it wasn't enough to achieve what she wanted. What she wanted was for Chace to go home madly in love with her, and to possibly gently jerk off while thinking about her, but she doubted that was happening at this point at all. She was the worst when it came to seducing people. "I don't want them to see you leaving." She went on, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand, sighing deeply as their voices grew louder.

She bit her bottom lip as she heard somebody stumble while coming up the staircase, and then obnoxiously loud laughter. They were probably drunk, most likely went to a bar after their movie in order to give them more time. They were even more annoying drunk than they were sober, and she didn't want to see them to begin with.

Chace gazed at her for quite some time, eyebrows slightly crossed and lips in full pout, which tore at her insides deeper still. "Well… I _could_ leave tomorrow… while they're sleeping." He suggested with a small shrug of the shoulders. Heather stared back at him, grasping the weight of what he had said little by little, but loud laughter from the hallway jarred her senses, and she smiled widely.

"Okay," she laughed, fully aware of where this was going, once more. He had a sly way of getting into her bed, and it scared her how okay she was with that.

"Okay." Chace nodded, and she began to nod, before they began laughing. She could hear the soft jingle of keys, and then the sound of them being dropped and her heart began racing rapidly. It was decided, then.

"_Okay_. Fine. Now shut up and go−go go _go_! Before they catch us and force us to watch an entire season of Adventure Time with them on Netflix." Heather muttered under her breath quickly as they stood and practically ran into her bedroom, Heather quietly shutting the door just as Rachel opened the front one.

They had left everything just as it was in the living room; pizza still warm, glasses half-full, open bottle of wine, The Office still playing in reruns on television."Hey look Ray, pizza! And more booze!" Dia exclaimed loudly in the doorway.

Heather didn't waste any time jumping into bed, giggling as quietly as she could, shushing Chace as he let out a laugh. "I didn't bring any clothes." He said, standing in front of her bed as she lay down on her side with the covers thrown over herself hastily, shrugging slightly.

"Why would you? I guess you could just… take your pants off?" She was laughing on the outside, but she couldn't believe that she said it, and she instantly wished she could take it back. Chace nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed as he unlaced his shoes, peeling his socks off after and balling them up, discarding them on the floor.

Heather still had the giggles and couldn't look away from him, but as he stood up, hands unfastening the button and zipper of his jeans, he looked over his shoulder at her. "Pervert," was all that he said, and she immediately covered her face with a pillow in order to hide the intense amount of blush forming in her cheeks. It was almost completely dark in her room, the only light coming from the streetlamps through the window and the faint blue glow of the alarm clock, and she doubted he could see it, but she was caught, and that only made her giggle harder. She quieted slightly in order to listen to the sound of his pants hitting the floor, and every nerve in her body was on edge with having him so near to her, with no pants on. She wanted to peek and see what kind of underwear he was wearing−man, she really _was_ a pervert−but instead she waited until he was under the covers next to her before facing him again. She instantly wished she hadn't.

He was close again, but at a distance where they were barely touching and she couldn't stand it, and would actually prefer it if they actually were. It was almost like an electric current was flowing between them, and the only way to subdue it was embracing. Except they were both lying and facing each other rather than facing the same way. Nobody was saying anything. They weren't touching. It made Heather feel panicky, and they had a very silent stare-off as she could hear the sounds of her friends grow quiet− they were going to bed, too.

"God, stop staring at me!" Heather finally whispered, giggling again as Chace smiled widely.

"I'm only doing it because you are. Fine. Good night." He mumbled, pulling the blanket over his head, Heather laughing.

"No, no!" She whined, propping herself up with her elbow, tugging at the blanket with all of her might. Chace was laughing, a muffled sound coming from under the covers that settled deep in her gut− she wasn't ready to fall asleep yet. Her mind was far too awake and abuzz with questions to fall asleep at that moment. She was just happy he was willing to spend another night. She rather liked it, and considered him to be her own personal sleeping buddy.

Chace finally resurfaced−hair a mess−wearing a crooked smile, but he still took her breath away. It was unfair how beautiful he was, to have him here in her bed, but it wasn't as if she had planned it. It just happened. It could have been any waitress on duty that could have smacked Blake Lively in the eye with a cork… actually, no, never mind. Only Heather was capable of such a feat. "Okay, what do you want?" He teased, and she was slightly tempted to let him know how badly she wanted to touch him just then, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to open that can of worms yet. They had tread around a lot of explosive territory, which may have been a good thing? It's been so long that she almost forgot what it felt like.

"I just wanted to see your face." She said innocently, settling her head back onto her pillow, hand underneath for extra support. She thought about the first night he stayed over, when they had just popped in a movie and he settled into her bed like it was nothing. He had such a blasé attitude about all of this, about life in general. It infuriated her at times. She could have been a really crazy stalker hell-bent on kidnapping him and wearing his skin, but he insisted on sleeping over every chance he got. As if they were three years old and just eager to play pretend forever and ever.

"Talk to me." She suggested, reaching a hand out and placing it on his chest, making it seem like she was smoothing his shirt down, but really, she just wanted to feel his pectorals before withdrawing her hand quickly.

He waited a couple seconds before clearing his throat, "Fine, I guess we could talk. You're so weird." He chuckled, reaching out and placing his hand over hers, barely touching it at first but then gently setting it down. She didn't move it, merely looked from their hands to his face. He was all pouty again.

"What are you doing?" She giggled as he moved his thumb over each of her knuckles, it made her feel, excited, and giddy. Like a crush when you're thirteen. This was the epitome of what it meant to have butterflies in ones' stomach. He shushed her, and left his hand over hers. She was aware of her heartbeat once more, pulse jumping around wildly. "Chace," she paused, letting the single syllable of his name hang in the air between them, trying it out. "Can I ask you something?" She asked him in a voice just above a whisper. Her case of the giggles was gone now but the butterflies remained; he was touching _her_, by his own accord, and it made her breath catch in her lungs.

He nodded once, "Go right ahead." The only thing was, she hadn't figured out quite what she was going to ask just at that moment. Perhaps she was jumping the gun, but she _wanted_ to ask him what was going on between them. She didn't want to be that kind of girl, but she _was_. He just didn't have to know−yet. She wondered if he would get annoyed with her, or lie to her in order to not hurt her feelings. She remained quiet for some time, aware that the silence was going on for far too long. "What is it?" He insisted, blue eyes boring into her green ones.

She swallowed and began carefully, "You sure do like staying here a lot, don't you?" She laughed, her hand beginning to sweat where he touched it. "I mean, you stayed over last weekend…" she began, Chace nodding and wearing a large grin that drove her insane.

"Mhmm…" He nodded, shifting slightly so he was positioned the same way she was, hand under head, bare knees kissing her own knobby little ones gently. It felt strange, to have his skin brush against hers.

She went on, stammering, "An−and then, the week before that."

"Yeah?" He said thoughtfully, as if this weren't apparent already. He was mocking her, and she knew that he knew that, and she just wanted to punch him in the jaw.

"Yes." She reaffirmed, losing her courage the more she spoke. She was messing up big time.

"What's your point?" He wanted to know.

Heather took a deep breath, "Is this going to become, like, our thing?" She whispered, even though there really was no need to. She could no longer hear the roommates, which meant they were passed out somewhere.

"Our _thing_?" He laughed, scratching his neck just below his chin. "I don't know. Maybe it's still too early to tell." He said, giving a fully honest answer that made her heart drop just a tiny bit. "All I know is, is that…" He began, wetting his lips with his tongue slightly, the motion quick but Heather caught every nanosecond of it.

Now it was _his_ turn to hesitate, and she felt impatient, worried that she had ruined their little sleeping arrangement in a heartbeat. "What, what?" She asked him, hand moving to nudge his arm a bit, his eyes flickering back to hers.

"Sorry it's just… I get, nervous…" he mumbled so low she could barely make it out.

She let out a tiny laugh, "You? Nervous?" If he was nervous, he had a good way of hiding it. His eyebrows were crossed, but he laughed a little. "Just say it." She insisted. There was no way that he could be as nervous, or mess up as bad as she. But what he was about to say took her completely by surprise.

"Alright, so, all I know is, is that I really like being around you. It's comforting… and simple. I understand it. You and your friends are the complete opposite of mine, and… I feel like I can be a normal person again when I'm with you." He spoke, and it was like she was floating on a cloud, heart racing as her hope was restored in an instant. She let out a little sigh of relief, even though she still held onto her doubts.

"I'm really glad to hear you say that, Chace. I can't begin to tell you how meeting you was probably the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I know that sounds sad? But in retrospect, it's true." She said it. She let him know how she really felt. She wanted to keep seeing him, but she didn't want to burden him and make him feel trapped. He could leave whenever he wanted, and she would be fine with it. "Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am. It feels too good to be true… also, I think you like to come over just to use my bed." And how could she blame him? Her bed _was _pretty amazing.

He laughed loudly, and she raised her hand to place her fingers over his lips gently, in the habit of wanting to remain quiet, and he beamed at her. "Maybe. But that's not the only reason why." He let that hang in the air between them, and Heather was caught about midway between disbelief and pure delight, wanting to open her window and shout that Chace Crawford was into her. _Her_. _Not_ Blake Lively or Taylor Momsen or any of those other _Gossip Girl_ skanks that he could be seen with every other week, which was overwhelming to think about, especially if they were really going to make this _a thing_. "You should let me take you out to dinner. Please." He said suddenly, giving her puppy dog eyes again.

"No," she responded, almost too quickly. He looked dejected and it made her sad to know that she was the reason he was so. But there was just, "No way, Chace!" She knew that they were way past the, "_Oh, hey, let's go get coffee and see if we're compatible,_" part of their relationship. They took a weird detour to get where they were, and it began with him picking up her keys in the park. But she did most definitely did _not_ want to go out to dinner with him in public.

"Just for once! One night, please. There won't be any pressure on you to cook, or your friends to talk to, it will be just us. I just want to spend more time with you." He was really begging, Chace Crawford was begging _her_ to go out with _him_, and Heather realized that there was something severely fucked up about the whole situation, but she continued to shake her head. She was too afraid to be seen out in the streets with him. "I want to do something normal. We can go to this new sushi bar they just opened up downtown… what do I have to say to make you change your mind? Please." He had taken hold of her hand now, shaking it in order to get her attention because she had closed her eyes and was now shaking her head vigorously. She couldn't look at him, when he looked so sad. "Fine." He sighed, letting go of her hand, and she opened her eyes in fear that she had really done it this time.

She was not, however, expecting him to prop himself up on his elbow, taking her head in his hand, lean over her and press his lips against hers almost dutifully. As if he knew that was what he had to do. She immediately grunted in protest, placing a hand on his chest at first, but not pushing him away. She had wanted to kiss him so badly, and her resolve was crumbling down completely as she leaned in against him, hands shaking slightly.

He pulled away after what felt like forever, eyebrows slightly crossed, lips in full pout, which only made her want to _really_ kiss him. "I've been wanting to do that, all night." He uttered quietly, smoothing his thumb across her bottom lip. She forgot to to inhale, or did she need to exhale? She couldn't remember which was which anymore as her eyelids fluttered shut. "So you'll go to dinner with me, then?" He asked again, and she noticed that he was breathing deeply, her hand still on his chest. She opened her eyes, nodding; she was lost for words and he was smiling the biggest smile she'd ever seen him wear. He won this round. "Great. So you, go to bed. I'll have to go home in the morning while your friends are still sleeping and change for dinner tomorrow." He said more to himself than to her, as he hitched up the blankets around his ear and settled into the mattress. She still couldn't believe that he used a trick that dirty to get her to go to a stupid sushi bar. It better have been damn good sushi, because now he knew her true weakness. "Goodnight, Heather." He added, closing his eyes, still wearing that stupid smile.

She turned around, emotionally drained to the point where she could not, and did not want to argue anymore, and Chace settled in around her like a tea cozy.

What the hell was she getting herself into?


End file.
